


Salvation Lies Within

by JustSomeGirlll



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Minor Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, SuperCorp, but I wrote anyway, but i'll leave that up to you folks, but that'll be towards the end, i guess this is a bit of a slowburn, it's a prison AU folks!, more specifically it's a Shawshank Redemption AU, that nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeGirlll/pseuds/JustSomeGirlll
Summary: In 1947, Lena is found guilty for the murder of her husband and his mistress. She is sent to National City Penitentiary to serve out her two life sentences. In the time that Lena spends at NC Penitentiary, she learns to adapt to her new life and finds the last thing she thought possible: a family.AKA The Shawshank Redemption AU asked for by absolutely no one.





	1. Act I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, folks!
> 
> So, before we begin, I'd just like to preface a few things. First and foremost, my intent here is not to plagiarise the original works. 'The Shawshank Redemption' is perhaps the greatest movie ever made, and the novella (Rita Hayworth and The Shawshank Redemption) is one of the best things I've ever read. I have nothing but respect for the original works and just wanted to do my own version with some characters we all know and love. Also, though I love the novella, I am basing my version on the facts as they occur in the film.
> 
> And second, this piece will have many inaccuracies, which I am well aware of. However, if there is something that you feel reduces the impact of the story, you are more than welcomed to voice your opinion; I will gladly hear you out, provided you are polite about it. If something is unclear, please ask and I will explain it, provided it doesn't spoil the story. You can leave a comment here or come chat on Tumblr [@just-some-girlll](https://just-some-girlll.tumblr.com/), my inbox and DMs are always open.
> 
> Happy reading :)

* * *

SEPTEMBER, 1946  
OUTER SUBURBS OF NATIONAL CITY

A beam of light stretches from an idling car, and a low staticky hum, playing from the car’s built-in radio, mingles with the chirping crickets and hooting owls. There’s a lone occupant in the car – a woman. She stares blankly up at the house at the end of the gravel driveway, an unopened bottle of rum sits in her lap. It will be her second bottle of the day. With unsteady hands, she grasps the neck of the bottle and yanks the cork off before downing an impressive amount in one go. She doesn’t wince at the fiery sensation that scratches at her throat, in fact, she craves it. Perhaps she won’t feel as numb if the briny liquid is coursing through her veins.

The woman opens the glove compartment and pulls out a small object wrapped in a rag. She rests it on her lap and carefully unwraps it to reveal a revolver. She then grabs a box of bullets and opens it, spilling them all over the seat and floor. One-by-one, she picks a bullet up and loads it into the gun. Her gaze returns to the partially lit house at the end of the driveway.

She shuts off the radio and thick silence suddenly surrounds her, broken only by the now almost silent chirping, and the moaning that comes from the house. The woman takes another swig of rum before climbing from the car. Gravel crunches beneath her feet, loose bullets spill to the ground, and the bottle of rum falls and shatters.

The woman stands by the car and the moaning grows louder, despite being no closer to the house. She can hear the two lovers nearing climax, their sounds of passion morphing into rhythmic gasps and grunts.

* * *

JANUARY, 1947  
NATIONAL CITY COURTHOUSE

“Mrs Luthor. Mrs Luthor.” A man – the District Attorney – snaps his fingers to regain the woman’s attention

The voice and snapping fingers pull the woman from her thoughts. She glances up at the man; his pale complexion and wire-rimmed glasses age him, and his three-piece suit hangs off his slender frame, noticeably one size too large.

“Call me Lena, please.”

If the woman’s soft and eerily calm response surprises the man, he does nothing to show it.

“Describe the confrontation you had with you husband the night he was murdered.”

The twelve jurors sitting to Lena’s right bring their full attention to Lena, watching, waiting. Lena shifts uncomfortably under their gaze, but she retains a calm demeanour.

“It was bitter,” Lena says, her tone soft and measured. “He said that he was glad I knew; that all the sneaking around was becoming a nuisance. He said he wanted a divorce in Reno.”

“What was your response?” The same man asks.

“I said that I wouldn’t agree to one.”

The lawyer is quick to speak, reading directly from his notes. “I’ll see you in Hell before I see you Reno.” He says this slightly louder and looks up from his notes and holds Lena’s gaze as he approaches the witness stand. “Those were the words you used, according to the testimony of your neighbours.”

“If they say so. I really don’t remember; I was upset.”

“What happened after you and your husband argued?”

“He packed a bag and left.” Lena’s eyes briefly flicker around the room.

“To stay with his lover, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did you follow him?”

“Not at first. I stayed at our house and drank for a little bit. I knew where they were staying, so later, I went to confront them. They weren’t there so I parked my car and waited.”

“What was your intention in doing this?”

“I’m not sure. I was drunk, confused. I think I mostly wanted to scare them.”

“You had a gun with you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“When they arrived home, what did you do?”

“I sat in my car for a bit. Drank some more.”

“How long did you sit in your car for after they returned." 

“Not long; fifteen minutes.”

“Then you went up to the house and murdered them?”

“No. No, I was sobering up. I realized he wasn’t worth it and decided to just let him have his quickie divorce.”

“‘Quickie divorce’ indeed,” the man says, once again slightly louder. “A .38 calibre revolver wrapped in a hand towel to muffle the shots. Isn’t that what you mean? You shot your husband and then you shot his lover!” 

“No, that’s not what happened.” Lena’s voice wavers slightly, but she recovers herself with a steadying breath. “I got back into my car and drove home to sleep it all off. Along the way, I stopped and threw my gun into the river.”

“The National City River, yes?”

“Yes. I feel I’ve been very clear on that.”

“You have, and yet a cleaning woman found your husband and his lover in bed, riddled with .38 calibre bullets.” The man waits for a response from Lena, but when none comes, he continues speaking. “You claim you threw your gun into National City River before the murders. That’s rather convenient.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Police searched that river for weeks and no gun was ever found. So now, no comparison can ever be made between your gun and the bullets taken from the victims. Rather convenient.”

“Since I’m innocent of this crime, I find it inconvenient that the gun was never found,” Lena says, and again, her calm demeanour wavers, if only of a brief second.

* * *

Lena sits at the defendant’s table, her attorney to her right, and the prosecuting District Attorney stands before the jury box, making his closing statement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve heard all the evidence, you know all the facts,” the man says, holding direct eye contact with each juror, his voice stern and unwavering. “We have the defendant at the scene of the crime, footprints, tire tracks, bullets at the scene which bear her fingerprints, an empty bottle of rum, likewise with fingerprints.

“Most of all, we have two lovers lying dead in each other’s arms. They had sinned, but was their crime so great as to merit a death sentence? I suspect Mrs Luthor’s answer to that would be yes.” He gestures to Lena sitting at the defendant’s table. “I further suspect she carried out that sentence on the night of September twenty-first, last year.

“She fired eight bullets in total, four for each of her victims. And while you think about that, think about this: a revolver holds six bullets, not eight. This was not a crime of hot-blooded passion, rather one of a far more sinister nature. This was a crime of revenge! Mrs Luthor emptied the gun into the two lovers and reloaded so she could shoot each of them again. An extra bullet per lover, right in the head.”

* * *

Lena stands before the judge’s bench, and with one hand, she presses her thumb against the pad of each of her fingers in quick succession – a nervous habit she picked up many years ago. Her thoughts are racing, and Lena can feel her cheeks heating up and hands becoming clammy as she waits for the verdict.

The jury foreperson hands the bailiff a slip of paper, which he then passes to the judge. The judge reads what is written on the paper, nods, and looks up at Lena over the rim of his glasses.

When asked what the verdict is, the jury foreperson says, clear as day, voice even and unwavering. “Guilty.”

Lena feels that. She feels that one word in her body, coursing through her veins and thumping around in her head. It plays itself on repeat.

“You strike me as a cruel and remorseless woman, Mrs Luthor. Chills my blood just looking at you,” the judge says, and Lena is barely listening, the word ‘guilty’ filling her thoughts. “Which is why I hereby order you to serve two life sentences, back-to-back, one for each of your victims. So be it.”

With a final rap of the judge’s gavel, and the sentence confirmed, Lena’s mind goes black.

* * *

JANUARY, 1947  
NATIONAL CITY PENITENTIARY

An iron bar door slides open with a heavy _clang_ , and light spills into a narrow corridor as a figure approaches the stark room beyond. A woman emerges into the room, standing before seven humourless men who sit side-by-side at a long worn and wooden table. The woman stands awkwardly in front of them as the men flick through the documents on their table and talk in hushed whispers amongst themselves, paying the woman no mind at all.

The iron bar door closes behind the woman and the heavy _clang_ that resonates through the room finally breaks the men’s attention from their papers.

“Sit,” one of the men says, gesturing to a steel seat, anchored to the ground, in front of them.

The woman quickly sits and waits. 

“Miss Danvers,” a different man says, reading from the file in front of him, “we see by your file that you’ve served ten years of a forty-year sentence. Do you feel you’ve been rehabilitated?” He brings his attention away from the file and looks at the woman for the first time.

“Yes, Sir. Absolutely. Being in this place has done wonders for me. I’ve learned my lesson, and I can honestly say that I’m a changed woman. I’m no longer a danger to society. No doubt about it.”

The men simply stare, their disinterest and boredom apparent on their faces. One of the men, sitting at the end of the table yawns. Another of the seven men reach for a large rubber stamp and slam it down onto the parole form. It reads ‘REJECTED’ in red ink.

* * *

_There’s a con like me in every prison in America. I’m the lady who can get you anything. Cigarettes, a bag of reefer if that’s more your thing, pack of playing cards, even a bottle of rum if you got something to celebrate. Damn near anything, within reason._

_So, when Lena came to me in 1949 and asked me to smuggle Ingrid Bergman into the prison for her, I told her ‘no problem.’ And it wasn’t._

* * *

A woman steps out of one of the prison’s buildings and out into the exercise yard where the daylight is quickly fading. She nods her head to a few other convicts as she walks through the crowd, discretely sliding packs of cigarettes into open palms. It isn’t long before two other convicts run over to her, though these two don’t ask for anything.

“Lucy, Alex,” the woman greets, offering each of them a smile that can only be described as familial love.

“Heyya, Sis. How’d it go?” Alex says, slinging an arm over her sister's shoulder and nodding her head to the building that looms behind them.

“Same shit, different day.” She shrugs. 

“Come on, Kara, I need pointers. I’ve got mine next month,” Lucy says, nudging Kara’s shoulder with her own.

Kara grins and opens her mouth to offer Lucy a witty comment, however, two short siren blasts stop any chance at a conversation. The three women turn around to face the source of the noise and watch as the outer prison gates swing open to reveal a grey prison bus lurching towards the prison.

“Fresh fish! Fresh fish! Fresh Fish today!” One of the nearby convicts shouts as she runs up to the twelve-foot high, chain link fence.

Most of the convicts swarm towards the fence to gawk and jeer at the newcomers, shaking the fence to try to grab their attention as they disembark from the bus. Kara, Alex, and Lucy gather at the top of the newly emptied bleachers and settle in comfortably to watch from afar.

* * *

_Lena came to National City Penitentiary in early 1947 for murdering her husband and the lady he was screwing. I must admit, I didn’t think much of Lena the first time I laid eyes on her. She might’ve been important on the outside, but in here, she’s just like the rest of us folks: a convict._

* * *

Twenty-two women disembark from the bus; some look unfazed by their situation, but most look worried, scared. They’re all chained together and walk in a single file line towards the inner gate.

“There they are, ladies. The Human Charm Bracelet,” Kara says, earning a laugh from Lucy and a smack on the arm from Alex.

Three other women approach Kara, Alex, and Lucy, dropping themselves onto the bleachers around them.

“Danvers, you takin’ bets today?” One of the women – Leslie – asks.

“Depends,” Kara says, thinking. “Cleaned you out last time. So, what’ve you got?”

“Smokes. Five of ‘em.” Leslie holds up the five cigarettes and then points down to one of the newcomers. “Her, third in line. She’ll be the first.” She does this without looking away from Kara, an impish, challenging smirk on her face.

Kara thinks for a second and then a grin breaks out across her face. She pulls a small notebook and equally small pencil out from her pocket. “Alright. Who’s gonna take that?”

Lucy finds the third woman in line and scoffs, looking back at the group. “Bullshit, Willis. I’ll challenge that.”

Kara quickly writes the bet down and looks back up at the small group around her, an expectant smile on her face. The other two women with Leslie – Imra and Gayle – place bets of their own and challenge a few as well. Lucy and Alex place their own bets until it’s just Kara who’s yet to place one.

“What about you, Kara?” Lucy says.

“Yeah, you gonna pick someone or just watch us,” Gayle says, her tone slightly mocking and urging Kara to pick someone.

“Fine, fine.” Kara looks at the newcomers, studying each one carefully. Her eyes fall to the woman at the end of the line and she smirks. “Her.” Kara points at the woman with her pencil. “One at the back. Half a pack says she’s the first.”

This earns a few scoffs from the group.

“If you’re all so confident then, challenge it. Go on,” Kara says, smiling and urging the women around her to challenge. “Who’s gonna take it?” Leslie’s hand shoots up, as well as Imra’s, Lucy’s and Alex’s. Kara writes the names down. “Alright ladies, that’s all; this window’s closed.” Kara pockets her notebook and pencil, and Leslie, Imra, and Gayle leave.

“Half a pack, huh?” Lucy says, smirking and looking over at Kara. “Feeling confident, are you?”

Kara shrugs and watches the line of newcomers walk through the prison yard, her eyes following the woman at the back. “I dunno, just a feeling, I guess.”

“Must be a pretty good feeling,” Alex chimes in, lighting a cigarette.

“Find out just how good tonight,” Kara says, looking back at Alex now that the newcomers have disappeared into a building.

A staticky voice comes over the speakers that surround the prison yard, commanding all the convicts to return to their cells for counting. There are grumbles of protest around the yard, but everyone begins to drift inside, Kara, Alex, and Lucy included.

* * *

Several iron bar doors open, all with a heavy _clang_ , though Lena doesn’t react to the sound. She marches forward with the other women, her steps made more difficult by the shackles.

The guards lead them into an almost dark room. Some light manages to creep in through the small windows along the top of the room, creating a simple pattern with the shadow of the bars. The guards unlock the shackles and they fall to the stone floor, the rattling bounces off the stone walls.

“Eyes front.” A man says, his voice is firm, and his words echo in Lena’s head. The man takes a step back, and another man steps forward, his shoes _click_ on the floor.

This man isn’t intimidating in the same way as the other one. He’s wearing a grey suit and a church pin in his lapel catches and reflects the small traces of light that seep into the room. He holds power in here, that much is made obvious to Lena. However, had she met him on the outside, Lena’s sure she wouldn’t have given him a second thought.

“This is Mr. Corben, captain of the guard,” the man says. “I am Mr Edge, the warden. You are sinners and scum, that’s why you’ve been sent to me. Rule one: no taking the Lord’s name in vain. I will not have that in my prison. The other rules you’ll figure out throughout your stay. Any questions?”

Silence.

“Good. I believe in two things: discipline and the Bible. Here, you’ll receive both.” Edge holds up a Bible. “Put your faith in the Lord. Welcome to National City Penitentiary.”

* * *

Lena and the other newcomers walk in a single file line towards cell block five. The chants from the prisoners become louder, and part of Lena still thinks this is all some kind of fever-induced hallucination. That she wasn’t really hosed down like vermin with an industrial hose. Didn’t have an invasive and thorough body search conducted under an hour ago. And didn’t have a handful of delousing powder thrown at her.

As she marches up the stairs and walks along the gangway to her cell, everything seems to feel more real. Lena stands in her cell and the iron bar door comes to a close in front of her, the sound echoing in her head. She does a little spin and takes in her new surroundings. The walls are bare, save for a few names carved into the stone and a series of tally marks just below the small window. There’s a toilet and sink in one corner, a bed against one of the walls, and a small well-worn wooden table opposite the bed.

The lights go off in a sequence and once the darkness falls, Lena realizes with horrifying certainty, that this isn’t a dream. She is here. In a prison cell. Locked up for the rest of her life.

* * *

_The first night’s always the toughest; no doubt about it. They march you in, the jumpsuit they give you scratching at your skin, making the delousing shit they throw at you all the more painful. And when they put you in that cell, when those bars slam shut, and the lights go out, that’s when you know it’s for real. Old life washed away, leaving you with nothing but the knowledge that you’ll never get it back._

_Most new fish come close to madness on the first night. Somebody always breaks down crying. Happens every time, just a matter of who._

_It’s as good a thing to bet on as any, I guess. As cruel as it may seem, gives us folk something to do, something to keep our minds off the fact that our own lives have gone to shit, even if that escape is only temporary._

__A few of the ladies always go fishing for newcomers, and they don’t quit, not until they reel someone in.__

_I had my money on Lena Luthor._

* * *

Kara approaches the bars on her cells and leans against them, listening, waiting. She can hear a faint whisper from one of the cells below. It echoes through the cell block, carrying up the three-story hall, and gradually becoming louder. The almost silent whispers morph into ghastly tittering, which quickly turns into a steady stream of taunting. From her cell, she can see the shadow of one of the newcomers in the cell across from her, pacing back-and-forth like a caged animal. Kara lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag, waiting. She cranes her head and peers down towards Lena’s cell. Nothing. Not a peep.

She brings her attention back to the others and can hear Leslie trying to get a reaction out of the newcomer she bet on. It takes barely thirty seconds of Leslie talking before a loud wail of despair breaks out and carries through the stone hall.

“Oh god! I- I don’t bel- belong here! I wanna go home!” Kara hears from one of the cells on the ground level. Leslie cheers, her excitement at winning the bet apparent.

The entire cell block goes nuts, prisoners cheering and jeering, taunting the newcomers. The commotion causes the lights to flash on and guards to pour in.

“What in the Christ is this shit you lot are pulling!” Corben says as he leads the guards into the cell block.

“He took the Lord’s name in vain! I’m telling the warden,” a prisoner cackles, and Kara has to stifle her own laugh at the comment.

Corben’s frustration grows, and it becomes instantly obvious to everyone else in the cell block. Everyone goes silent, except for the newcomer who continues to cry. Corben snaps his fingers at a few guards and they rush to the newcomer, dragging her out of the cell and out of the block.

“I don’t want to hear another sound,” Corben says before leaving the cell block.

The lights go off and silence falls among the block. The only thing the prisoners can hear is the wailing of the newcomer slowly getting further and further away until suddenly, it stops.

Kara keeps her eyes on the now empty cell before pushing away from the bars and laying down on her bed. She stares up at the ceiling, tossing a baseball up and down, waiting for a new day to come.

* * *

_Her first night in here, and Lena Luthor cost me two packs of cigarettes. She never made a sound._

* * *

MARCH, 1947

Kara tosses her baseball into Lucy’s waiting hand. The sun is high above the prison yard and partly obscuring her vision, so, when Lucy tosses the ball back, it almost hits Kara in the face.

Kara gets ready to throw the ball back, kicking at the dusty ground and winding up her arm. Just as she’s about to throw the ball, Kara notices Lena hovering nearby in her peripheral vision. She throws the ball and nods ‘hello’ to Lena. Lena takes this as her cue and quickly approaches Kara. Lucy pauses and watches the interaction.

“Hello. I’m Lena Luthor.”

“I know.” Kara catches the ball the Lucy throws back. “You killed your husband.” She throws the ball back.

“How’d you know that?”

Kara shrugs and catches Lucy’s return throw. “Why’d you do it?”

“I didn’t since you asked.”

“You’ll fit right in here then.” Kara laughs, loud and unapologetic. “Everyone here’s innocent, don’t you know that?” Kara further explains when Lena shoots her a look of confusion. “Lucy! What are you in for?”

“Didn’t do it! Lawyer fucked me!” Lucy shouts back.

“See?” Kara says, addressing Lena again with a slight smirk playing at her lips.

Kara and Lucy return to their game while Lena stands awkwardly near Kara, clearly wanting to ask her something. Kara can see this but chooses to say nothing, instead, waiting with a smirk, for Lena to say something.

“I understand you’re someone who knows how to get things,” Lena eventually says.

Kara stops, grins, shoots Lucy a look that tells her to wait, and turns to face Lena fully. “I’m known to locate certain things from time-to-time, for a small fee of course.” Kara threads her thumbs through the empty belt loops on her jumpsuit and waits for Lena’s answer with an expectant grin.

“I was wondering if you could get me a rock hammer.”

“What is it and why?” Kara arches a brow, her face slightly more serious, but the grin still remains.

“You always make your customers’ motives part of your business?”

“If you wanted a toothbrush, I wouldn’t ask questions. I’d just quote you a price and then we’d be on our merry way. See,” Kara takes a step towards Lena, “a toothbrush is a non-lethal sort of object. So, I’ll ask you again: what is it and why do you want one?”

“Fair enough. A rock hammer is about eight or nine inches long. Looks like a miniature pickaxe, with a small sharp pick on one end, and a blunt hammerhead on the other. It’s for rocks.”

“Rocks?”

Lena squats and motions for Kara to do the same. She picks up a handful of dirt and sifts through it, finding a small pebble. She rubs it clean, revealing a milky glow that seems to shine in the sun. Lena holds the pebble up for Kara to take.

“Quartz?” Kara asks, taking the pebble and examining it closely.

Lena hums and stands, dusting her hands on the side of her jumpsuit. “I’ve also found some mica, shale, silted granite and some limestone from where they cut this place out of the hill.”

“Your point?” Kara stands, pockets the small piece of quartz and dusts her own hands off.

“I’m a bit of a geology buff, at least I was in my old life. I’d like to be again, on a limited scale of course.”

“Sure.” Kara shrugs. “Or maybe you want to plant your toy into somebody’s skull.”

Lena shakes her head. “I don’t have any enemies here." 

“Give it time. Everyone finds an enemy here.” Kara gets Lucy’s attention and throws the baseball back to her, before bringing her full attention back to Lena. “So, maybe you wanna use it to escape. Tunnel under the wall maybe?”

Lena laughs politely at Kara’s comment.

“I miss something funny here?” Kara asks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Lena expectantly.

“You’ll get it when you see the rock hammer." 

Kara seems to accept Lena’s answer for the time being. “What’s a rock hammer usually go for anyway?”

“Seven dollars in any rock and gem shop.”

“My standard mark-up’s twenty per cent, but this is a specialty item and a dangerous one at that. Risk goes up so does the price. Call it ten bucks even.”

“Ten it is.” Lena nods, a small smile playing at her lips.

“It’s a waste of money though." 

“How so?”

“Folks who run this place _love_ surprise inspections. They’ll turn a blind eye to some things, but not something like that. They find it – and they will find it – you lose it. Mention my name and we never do business again, not for a pair of shoelaces or a stick of gum. Clear?”

“Clear. And thank you, Miss…”

“Danvers. But just call me Kara.”

“Danvers?” Lena repeats. “I thought I heard someone call her Danvers.” Lena points to a red-headed woman standing a few yards behind Lucy, talking to a small group of inmates.

“Probably did seeing as she’s my sister and all.” 

“Oh.” Lena nods, processing the new information. “How’d that happen then? Both of you in here at the same time, I mean.”

Kara grins at Lena. “Lawyer fucked us over.”

Lena smiles and nods at Kara’s answer. “Well, Kara, pleasure doing business with you.”

Kara watches Lena walk off and notes the way that she seems to stroll through the crowd of prisoners, stopping occasionally to pick up a rock.

By the day’s end, Lena slips a small, tightly-folded square of paper to Kara, and as Kara lays in bed that night, she unfolds the piece of paper and grins when she realizes it’s a ten-dollar bill. Kara slips out of her bed and silently creeps over to the mirror above her sink. She gently pries it off the wall and slides the ten-dollar bill into the small pouch attached to the mirror’s back.

* * *

_At the time, I thought Lena was throwing her money away when she asked me to get her a rock hammer. It would be another few years before I learned that she had bought a lot more than ten dollars in. And many years after that, that I realized how wrong I’d been in my earlier judgment about the rock hammer being a waste of money._

* * *

APRIL, 1947

It isn’t until the end of April that Lena’s rock hammer makes its way to National City Penitentiary. It comes in through a bag of clean laundry, which quickly makes its way into a young inmate’s possession. Nia Nal works in the laundry and in her short time at the prison, Kara’s stuck her neck out for her, keeping a watchful eye over the young girl. In return, Nia smuggles some of Kara’s contraband into the prison.

Kara approaches the collection desk to get her clean laundry. Nia smiles and grabs a specific stack of folded sheets from under the desk. She slides the clean laundry to Kara, and, with a sleight of hand, Kara slips some money into Nia’s palm.

Kara quickly takes the clean sheets back to her cell, and when she’s sure that she’s alone, slides the small package out and unwraps it. A grin breaks out across her face when she sees the size of the rock hammer, finally understanding why Lena laughed at the idea of using the tool to dig an escape tunnel.

Dinner passes by, and before long, Kara’s back in her cell after evening count. She’s sitting on her bed, back against the wall, waiting. A faint squeaking soon appears, and a sly grin breaks out across Kara’s face. She moves over to the bars and watches as a woman pushes a book cart along the gangway.

“Ms Grant, lovely to see you again,” Kara says sweetly, smiling.

“Anything off the trolley?”

“Yes, in fact.” Kara reaches out and slides the rock hammer wrapped in a towel onto the middle shelf of the trolley, and she grabs a book before retracting her hand. “For Lena.”

Ms Grant looks down at the package and nods approvingly before looking at the book in Kara’s hand. “You should consider reading that. Might find you actually like it.”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s about a prison break.”

Kara laughs under her breath and backs away from the bars. Ms Grant continues to push the trolley along the gangway, eventually stopping at Lena’s cell.

“Middle shelf, wrapped in a towel,” Ms Grant says quietly when Lena approaches the bars.

Lena’s hand snakes between the bars and quickly grabs the object, replacing it with a small slip of paper. She extends her hand again, about to place some money on the trolley, but Ms Grant quickly stops her with a firm hand around her wrist.

“First one’s free.”

Lena nods, and shoots her a smile, mouthing the words ‘thank you.’

Ms Grant turns the cart around and stops out front Kara’s cell, sorting the books just long enough for Kara to snatch the slip of paper. Ms. Grant carries on.

Kara unfolds the slip of paper, and, written in a neat print that Kara will come to recognize as Lena’s handwriting, is ‘Thanks.’

* * *

_And that’s how Lena joined our little rag-tag prison family._

_I do think the first two years were the hardest on Lena. She never said anything to us, and truthfully, I couldn’t blame her. Prison life consists of routine, and then more routine after that. Lena’s routine consisted of working in the laundry, eating, and chipping away at her rocks after lights out._

_After enough time, routine can drive even the sane to insanity. I do believe that if something didn’t break Lena’s routine, this place would break her. But then, in the spring of 1949, Lena’s routine finally broke._

* * *

MAY, 1949

The sun beats down on all the prisoners who stand in the prison yard. There’s a light breeze blowing through the yard, providing relief from the sun and causing dust to dance around at ankle height. Guards flank the prisoners on either side and a few stand just behind the warden. The prisoners watch on as Warden Edge stands slightly elevated and addresses them all with a bullhorn.

“The roof of the license-plate factory needs resurfacing. I’ll need a dozen volunteers for a week’s worth of work,” Edge says, his staticky voice carrying out through the prison yard, causing a few prisoners and guards to wince at the uncomfortable sound. “We’re going to be taking names in this bucket.” He gestures to a steel bucket just in front of him.

Kara grins at each of her friends and when she catches Lena’s gaze, she winks. Lena shoots her a curious look at that but decides to go along with whatever idea is currently rattling around in Kara’s brain.

The prisoners shuffle past the steel bucket and drop slips of paper into it, meanwhile, Kara shuffles up to one of the younger guards and mutters discreetly into her ear while slipping her a piece of paper with her name, Alex’s, Lucy’s, Lena’s, and Nia’s name written on it. The guard nods and shuffles away.

* * *

_It was outdoor work, and May is a damn fine month to be working outdoors._

_More than a hundred of us volunteered for the job, and wouldn’t you know it? Me and some ladies I know were among the names called. Only cost us a pack of smokes per person. I made my usual twenty per cent, of course._

* * *

MAY, 1949  
NATIONAL CITY LICENSE PLATE FACTORY ROOF

The twelve prisoners working the outdoor detail use large mops to spread the tar over the surface. They work diligently as a small handful of guards, including Corben, stand a few yards behind them, talking amongst themselves.

“So, this shithead lawyer called from Texas last night,” Corben says to the other guards. “He says ‘John Corben?’ and I say, ‘yeah.’ He tells me that my brother just died.” Irritation fills Corben’s voice rather than misery or despair.

“Damn, Corben. Sorry to hear that,” one of the guards say, genuine concern fills his voice.

“I’m not. He was an asshole. Ran off years ago and the family hasn’t heard from him since. Figured him for dead anyways. So, this lawyer prick tells me that my brother died a wealthy man. Oil wells and shit, close to a million bucks the bastard made. Fucking incredible how lucky some assholes can get.” Corben spits on the ground.

“A million bucks! You gonna get any of that?” a different guard says. 

“Thirty-five thousand,” Corben says, as though the figure is insulting. “That’s what he left me.”

“Dollars! Holy shit, that’s great! Like winning the lottery,” the same guard says in genuine excitement. 

Corben shoots the guard a dirty look. “What do you think the government’s gonna do to me. Take a big chunk of that money, that’s what! Might leave me enough to buy a new car but then what? Have to pay tax on the car, repairs, and maintenance. Goddamn, kids are gonna pester me to take them for a ride, probably wanna drive it themselves when they’re older. Then at the end of the year, if you figured the tax wrong, they’re gonna make me pay out of my own pocket. Some fucking brother.”

Kara looks up slightly at Corben’s comment, still moving the tar over the roof. “Geez, poor Corben,” she says sarcastically, turning back to her work. “What terrible fucking luck.” 

Alex, Lucy, and Nia all stifle a laugh of their own.

“Damn shame. Some people just get it so bad,” Nia says, matching Kara’s sarcastic tone.

Kara glances over to Lena to gauge her reaction and her eyes go wide when she sees Lena standing upright, listening to the guards talk amongst themselves. 

“Hey,” Kara nudges Lena. “Keep your eyes down!”

Lena shoots her a look that says ‘trust me’ before dropping her mop and walking up to the guards.

“Lena!” Kara yells but keeping her voice a whisper.

“What’s she doing?” Alex asks.

“Gonna get herself killed, that’s what!" Lucy says.

“Lena!” Nia shouts too. “Come back!”

Lena doesn’t turn around though, she continues walking towards the guards, surprisingly calm for the situation she’s about to enter. It takes Alex grabbing Kara’s forearm to stop Kara from running after her.

“Just keep spreading the tar, okay?” Alex says to Kara.

Kara nods distractedly, keeping her eyes on Lena as she lazily spreads the tar.

Lena approaches the guards, and when the guards see her, they instantly reach for their batons. Corben turns around at the guards’ reactions and is shocked to find Lena standing there.

“Mr Corben, do you trust your wife?” Lena asks in complete seriousness. 

“What did you just say to me?” Corben approaches Lena.

“Do you trust your wife? Do you think she’d go behind your back? Try to double-cross you or something like that?”

“That’s it, you’re going back, and I’ll see to it that you spend the next week in solitary!” Corben snaps his fingers at the guards and two of them come forward to grab Lena.

Just as the guards are about to grab her though, Lena quickly explains herself. “Because if you do trust her there’s no reason you can’t keep all that money.”

Corben holds his hands up to the guards and looks to Lena, his facial expression firm and unreadable. “You’d better start making sense.”

“If you want to keep that money, all of it, just give it to your wife. The IRS allows you a one-time-only gift to your spouse. It’s good up to sixty thousand dollars.”

“Tax-free?”

“Tax-free. IRS can’t touch one cent of it. Go ask the IRS, they’ll say the exact same thing. I actually feel a bit silly telling all this. I’m sure you would have looked into the matter yourself. Of course, you will need somebody to set up the tax-free gift, and that’ll cost you. A lawyer for example. Or come to think of it, I could set it up for you. I used to do the books for my father’s company when I was younger, actually have quite a gift with numbers. I’ll write down the forms you need, and you can pick them up for me. I’ll prepare them so all you have to do is sign them.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s in it for you?”

“All I ask is three beers for each of my friends here.” Lena nods to the eleven women behind her, all of which have abandoned their mops in favour of watching the interaction before them.

* * *

_And that’s how it came to be, that on the second-to-last day of the job, the convict crew that tarred the license plate factory roof in the spring of ’49 wound up sitting in a row at five o’clock in the afternoon, drinking Black Label beer. We sat and drank with the setting sun on our shoulders, and in that moment, we were quite possibly the freest we’d ever be._

_As for Lena, she spent that break crouched in the shade, a strange little smile on her face, watching us drink her beer. I’d later ask her why she never had anything to drink and she would tell me that she gave up drinking just before the start of her trial._

_You could’ve argued that she’d done it to earn herself a favor with the guards, or maybe to make a few friends among us cons. Me, I think she did it to feel normal again, if only for a short while._

* * *


	2. Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for your consumption, I do hope you like it, folks. Feel free to come say hi on Tumblr [@just-some-girlll](https://just-some-girlll.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Happy reading :)

* * *

DECEMBER, 1949  
NATIONAL CITY PENITENTIARY

Clouds hang low in the sky and Kara and Lena sit on the bleachers, a game of checkers going on between them. Kara grabs one of her pieces and moves it to the end of the board. “King me,” she says, grinning up at Lena and blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face.

Lena does so and goes to make her own move. “You know what we should play? Chess. It’s strategic, civilized.”

“Or, we could just keep playing checkers,” Kara says, moving another one of her pieces. “Simple, quick, and adored by many.”

Lena rolls her eyes but makes her move anyway. “I’ve been thinking of getting a board together.”

“You’ve come to the right place then!” Kara claps, grinning. “I happen to be highly skilled in the art of getting things.”

“A board, maybe. But I’d like to make the pieces myself; carve them from stone. One side in quartz and the other in limestone.”

“Take you years.”

“Years I’ve got. What I don’t have are the rocks. Pickings in the exercise yard are pretty slim.” Lena makes her final move, winning the game.

“How’s that rock hammer treating you anyway?” Kara asks, returning the board and pieces to their small, travel-sized box. “Carved your name into the wall yet?”

Lena smiles fondly at the idea. “Not yet. Guess I should eventually.”

They finish packing up their game and shuffle so they’re sitting side-by-side on the bleachers now, watching the other prisoners in the yard.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Kara eventually asks.

“I’d say so.” Lena smiles at Kara before returning her gaze back out to the prison yard.

“Can I ask you a question then?"

Lena nods. 

“Did you really not do it?” Kara looks to Lena, her eyes earnest and smile kind, waiting for Lena’s answer.

Lena nods, her gaze still drifting over the prison yard. “I hated my husband for what he did – that I won’t deny – but I didn’t kill him.” She looks to Kara now. “I’m not a killer.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a brief moment.

“I believe you,” Kara says with a soft smile. “You’re a good person, I know it.”

There’s a brief pause.

“And you?” Lena asks.

“Oh, I’m guilty,” Kara says, quick and easy, as though she’s long since made peace with her crime.

“What, no spiel about the lawyer screwing you over?” Lena laughs a little.

“No, no.” Kara shakes her head, grin in place. “Me and Alex are the only guilty people in here.”

“What’d you two do?”

“Robbery.”

“Really?”

Kara nods. “Alex and I hit up a few banks all across the state. Thought we were actually getting pretty good at it; guess I was wrong." 

“How many?”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen!” Lena’s eyes go wide, the shock evident on her face. “As in eighteen different banks?”

Kara nods and smiles proudly. “They only got us on six though. They knew we’d done a lot more than six, but just didn’t have enough evidence to charge us on the rest. They did try and get us to rat each other out in exchange for a shorter sentence, but we didn’t. Both of us got forty years.”

“Why not? One of you could be out there right now. Seems like a waste for both of you to be in here.”

“Maybe.” Kara shrugs, her eyes roam over the prison yard, stopping when she finds Alex tossing a baseball with Lucy and Imra. “But she’s my sister and I love her. I could never turn her in, in exchange for my freedom. I’d never be able to enjoy my life out there, knowing that she’d be in here forever.”

“Must be nice, having such a strong relationship like that.”

“Yeah.” Kara nods and smiles fondly. “You close with your family?”

Lena laughs, loud, and seems to lose herself in it. Kara watches on, confusion evident on her face but a smile in place all the same.

“What’s so funny?” Kara asks.

“Nothing, nothing.” Lena abruptly stops laughing, but the grin across her face makes it clear that she’s doing all she can to hold it back. “It’s really not funny.” As Lena says this, her resolve breaks and more laughter erupts, earning a few dirty looks from nearby prisoners. She takes a steadying breath and recomposes herself, turning to face Kara with a more serious expression. “My family was dysfunctional at best, and that was _before_ my trial. I haven’t spoken to them since my trial started.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. They’re not nice people; surprised they stuck around for as long as they did, to be honest.”

“Still, I’m sorry you had to go through everything alone. No one should have to do that. Was it always like that?”

“My mother was always distant and icy. Of course, that’s probably just because my father had an affair and I’m a constant reminder of that betrayal. My brother was kinder though, made life a bit more bearable after my birth mother died. He grew distant after our father died, was never really the same after that.”

“You were adopted?”

Lena nods. “My birth mother died when I was four, never found out how.”

A brief silence.

“I was too. Adopted, I mean,” Kara says, her tone sombre. “My parents died when I was thirteen. Housefire.”

The speakers around the prison yard crack to life, commanding all prisoners to return to their cells for evening count. Kara and Lena sit in silence for a brief moment, soaking in it even.

“Come on,” Kara says, her mood and tone suddenly shifting to become more buoyant. She jumps to her feet and spins to face Lena, offering her hands to her. 

Lena thinks of questioning Kara further. It’s obvious she still feels the hurt of losing her parents, and there’s something about Kara that draws Lena in. She wants to know more about the woman, though the reason for that remains lost on Lena. However, Lena doesn’t pose any further questions; she smiles and takes Kara’s hands, coming to a stand beside her. The two begin walking back to their cell block, playfully bumping shoulders along the way.

“Think about adding your name to that wall of yours,” Kara says. “Gotta let people know you were here; make your mark on this place however you can.”

“Oh yeah, and how’d you make your mark?” Lena grins at Kara.

“Haven’t yet, but I will.”

“I can’t wait.”

* * *

Lena sits on her bed, back against the wall and legs hanging off the side. She’s polishing a small piece of quartz by the moonlight that pours in through the small window in her cell. The names scratched into the wall catch her eye, and Lena recalls the conversation her and Kara had in the prison yard just before evening count. She rises from the bunk and makes sure no one is watching before approaching the wall.

Lena scratches her name into the concrete wall with her rock hammer, adding it to the record of inmates.

* * *

A new day begins and Kara, Alex, Nia, and Lena sit in a circle on the bleachers, a game of poker going on between them and a small jackpot sits in the middle. Lucy drops herself onto the bleachers, jostling their game, and she wraps her jacket firmly around her body.

“Fucking hell it’s cold out here. Reckon we’re entitled to a new jacket after five years,” Lucy says.

Kara hums, focusing on the game. “You should take that up with Edge. I’m sure he’d love that.” She chances a glance up at Lucy, a sly smirk tugging at her lips.

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Lena, your three-year anniversary is coming up in a few weeks. We gonna do anything to celebrate the occasion? Perhaps breaking out of this shit hole?”

“I’ll have you know that some of us have to live in this ‘shit hole’ for the next thirty-odd years,” Alex bites back, though the playful glint in her eyes makes it obvious that she isn’t really upset.

Lucy raises her hands in surrender, laughing. “I still reckon a breakout is in order. What’d ya’ say?”

“Sure, Lucy. If I start digging a tunnel now, we might be out by the time ’65 rolls around." 

“Can’t blame a girl for dreaming.”

A low rumbling draws their attention to the main gates. A grey bus lurches towards the prison and the guards arrange themselves just behind the gate. The group watch from their position on the bleachers, and Lena can’t help but wonder if this is what they were doing when she arrived almost two years ago.

“Bets today?” Nia asks.

Kara shakes her head. “Nah. Let’s give the freshies a break.”

The new prisoners disembark and as soon as the last woman steps off the bus, Alex says, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?” Lena looks to Alex, and then to Kara and Lucy when she hears them laughing. 

Alex pushes up from her seated position and walks off, muttering under her breath.

“What’s all that about?”

“You see that woman?” Kara shuffles so she’s sitting next to Lena. She points to the woman at the end of the line. “At the very end of the line. Dark hair, kinda short.”

Lena finds the woman with her eyes and hums.

“Her name’s Maggie Sawyer. Got out a few weeks before you came in.”

“Okay?”

“Her and Alex, um, didn’t exactly get along.”

“That’s an understatement,” Lucy says, laughing, causing Nia to laugh too. 

Kara chooses to ignore Lucy’s comment. “They were both just stubborn idiots who couldn’t get over the fact that they couldn’t get a rise out of each other.”

“I reckon they just need to screw each other senseless.”

“Lucy!” Kara hisses.

“What? Everyone thinks so.” Lucy laughs from behind them, pocketing the loose bills from the poker game. Nia snaps her fingers and extends an open palm. Lucy places a few bills into Nia’s hand. “Gayle and I have even got a little wager going to see who’s gonna break first. I’ve got a carton of smokes on your sister. Anyway, I’m outta here. Stayin’ or comin’ Nia?”

“I’ve got a shift in the laundry soon, better get going.” Nia stands and dusts off her hands before leaving with Lucy.

“Lucy can be very… direct,” Kara says.

“I’ve come to realize as much.”

A brief pause passes between the pair.

“Do you think you can get me something?” Lena asks.

“I’ve been known to locate certain things from time-to-time.” Kara grins. “What can I get you?”

“Ingrid Bergman.”

“The actress?”

“The one and only. Can you get her?”

“Notta problem. Take a few weeks though.”

“Weeks?”

“Yes, weeks. What’re you so nervous about anyway?”

“Nothing. Just, want something to lighten up my cell is all.”

Kara studies Lena and hums. “Why Ingrid?”

Lena thinks before a little smile takes hold. “She’s one of those people who don’t follow a crowd, she does things her own way. There are certainly other people who are like that too, but there’s something different about her. You can just feel it in your gut.”

“I like that reason.”

“Me too.”

A moment of silence passes between the pair, and they find themselves shuffling a tiny bit closer together when a particularly icy gust of wind cuts through the yard.

“Kara?" 

Kara hums.

“Do you ever get anything for yourself?”

“What?”

“You get all these things for people, but do you ever get anything for yourself? And I don’t just mean cigarettes or playing cards, that’s all trivial stuff. I mean something real. Something that’s actually meaningful." 

Kara doesn’t answer immediately. “No, I guess not.”

“If you were to get something for yourself then, what would you get?”

Kara thinks. “A harmonica, I suppose. Jerimiah, my adoptive father, used to have a few. Before he died, he’d teach Alex and me how to play. I don’t think I’ve played one since he died.”

Lena reaches for Kara’s hand, interlaces their fingers together, and squeezes tight. She’s not sure what’s possessed her to do it, but she’s glad she does.

“Hold on to that,” Lena says, running her thumb over Kara’s hand. “I know it’s a sad reminder – painful even – but it’s something that keeps you human. Don’t let this place take that away from you.”

* * *

JANUARY, 1950

The end of another day comes. Lena walks into her cell and the metal bars slam shut behind her. She takes in her surroundings and it feels like that first night. The walls are still suffocating, the furniture miserable, and the view unremarkable. But there are a few photos and newspaper clippings that litter the walls, giving it a small amount of life. It’s slightly less dreadful and overwhelming than it was three years ago.

It’s been three years and it’s a little surreal that this has been her life for three years. Three years of routine. 

In the darkness, Lena finds a cardboard tube sitting on her bunk. She opens it and reveals a large poster as well as a small note. With what little light she gets from the moon, Lena reads the note: 'I know paper isn’t the traditional three-year anniversary gift, but leather isn’t cheap, so I hope you’re okay with the poster.'

Lena smiles softly at the note. She sticks the poster up to her wall and drops back into her bunk.

* * *

Several days drift by before Lena’s routine changes yet again. She’s in her cell, stomach full on the sludge she ate a few hours earlier, when a hushed whisper rises through the cell block.

“Tossin’ cells,” some says. “Warden’s tossin’ cells.”

Lena can hear other prisoners shuffling around in their cells, stuffing objects into mattresses and flushing others down the toilet. She watches from her cell as a large group of guards pair off in all directions, marking off the cells they wish to search.

Heavy footsteps shake the gangway as guards climb to the second and third floors with swift efficiency. Edge leads Corben and another guard along the gangway and makes a thin show of picking a few cells, passing by Kara’s without so much as a second thought.

He stops in front of Lena’s cell.

Lena is on her bunk and looks up from her Bible. Edge gestures at the door and a guard steps forward with a ring of keys in hand, unlocking it. 

“Good evening,” Lena says, coming to stand.

Edge enters the cell and stands before Lena as Corben and his men begin tossing the cell. Edge keeps his eyes on Lena, watching for a wrong glance or nervous blink, when he gets neither, he takes the Bible from Lena’s hand.

“Glad to see you’re reading this. Any favourite passages?”

“Nothing’s stuck out to me yet. I imagine something will though.”

Edge hums and studies Lena for a brief moment. “I hear you’re good with numbers.”

“Did the books for my father’s company when I was a teenager.”

“How nice,” Edge says, and it almost sounds as though he’s impressed, though there’s an undertone of displeasure to his voice.

“Care to explain this?” Corben, in all his looming presence, steps up to Lena, holding a small cloth, roughly the size of an oven mitt.

“It’s a rock blanket, used for shaping and polishing rocks,” Lena says. She nods her head to the carved rocks lining the windowsill. “Little hobby of mine.”

Corben tosses the rock blanket onto Lena’s bunk and faces Edge. “Looks pretty clean. Some contraband but nothing to get in a twist over.”

Edge nods and strolls to the poster of Ingrid Bergman. “Can’t say I approve of,” he studies the poster, “this. But I suppose exceptions can always be made.”

Edge leaves and Corben and the other guard follow. The metal bars slam shut with a reverberating _clang_. Edge pauses before leaving and turns back to face Lena.

“Almost forgot about this.” Edge slides the Bible through the bars. “Wouldn’t want to deprive you of this. Salvation lies within.”

“Salvation lies within,” Lena mirrors, grasping onto the Bible as Edge and the guards leave.

* * *

_Many years later, I imagine Edge saw the irony to that final statement he made to Lena. I assume he may have even regretted it. I’ll never know for sure though._ _One thing I am sure of though, is that tossin’ cells was all for show. Truth is, Edge just wanted to size Lena up. He was an ambitious man and knew that he’d need help, and he quickly figured out that Lena was that help._

* * *

The chaos of breakfast is almost drowned out by the intense tension bubbling off Alex as she stares down Maggie who’s sitting at a table at the other end of the cafeteria.

“I see the eye fucking is quite intense on this fine morning,” Lucy says, chipper, as she drops into the seat across from Alex.

Alex kicks Lucy under the table and shoots her a glare.

“Fine, sorry, forget I said anything. Jeez.” Lucy turns to face Kara and Lena. “What’s got her in a twist this morning?”

Lena shrugs and picks at her breakfast. 

“Maggie took the last apple,” Kara supplies.

“I missed fresh fruit today. Damn.” Lucy sounds genuinely upset that she missed the fruit, though there’s a smirk playing at her lips.

A shadow spreads over their table then and everyone looks up to see Corben standing at the end of the table. 

“Luthor, warden wants to speak with you.”

Lena shoots everyone at the table a confused look but stands and follows Corben to Edge’s office.

Edge’s office is the exact opposite of the cafeteria she was in just moments before. Where the cafeteria is cold and bland, Edge’s office is oddly warm and personal. Cheap wainscoting at hip height runs the perimeter of the room, photos and certificates adorn the beige walls, and two chairs sit opposite a desk.

Edge is at the desk, signing forms. He looks up and gestures for Lena to sit. “Mrs Luth-”

“It’s Ms. actually.” Lena isn’t sure why she jumped in to correct Edge, but she can feel some kind of confidence coursing through her now, despite being in the belly of the beast.

“Of course.” Edge smiles, fake and uncomfortable. “Ms Luthor, it is my understanding that you have some level of formal education to your name,” Edge says.

“Yes. I have my master’s in mechanical engineering, and I took a few finance classes early in my undergrad degree.”

Edge nods. “I also see here that you work in the laundry.”

“Yes. "

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Not particularly.” 

Edge smirks. “Perhaps we could find you something more befitting then.”

* * *

Lena emerges into a bleak and dark room. Near-collapsing bookshelves line three out of the four walls, books stuffed into the shelves, and unused desks and cabinets line the fourth wall. Though it looks like there’s an almost chaotic organization to the room. Lena attributes that to the woman who runs the room.

“Ms Grant,” Lena calls out.

Cat pokes her head out of the backroom, a pair of glasses low on her nose. “Lena, I was wondering when you were going to show up.” She tosses a stack of papers and her glasses onto one of the desks.

“They told you then.”

“This morning, Edge came down and told me he was reassigning you. There’s not much to the NC Pen library, though I’ve been insisting that we get more variety for years now. Stubborn asses. Anyway, at night I pile the cart and make my rounds and write down the names on the clipboard.” 

Lena looks around the room from where she’s standing. “How long have you been working here?”

Cat narrows her eyes. “Sounds like you’re trying to ask my age; it’s not polite to ask a woman that question.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean any offence, it’s just, well, it doesn’t look like there’s a lot to this job.”

“Relax, Lena, I’m joking. And no, there’s not a lot to do.”

“You ever had an assistant while working here.”

“Never needed one.”

“So why now? Why me?”

Cat grins. “You’re smart, smarter than I think you give yourself credit for. Surely you can figure out why Edge put you down here, can’t you?”

“Luthor!” A booming voice sounds from the hallway. It’s Corben.

Lena steps out into the hallway to find Corben with another guard, one she recognizes. Winslow Schott, a relatively new guard, only started within the last ten months, and one of the only guards who treat the inmates as human beings.

“That’s her,” Corben says, pointing to Lena before leaving.

“Winslow Schott, Miss,” he extends his hand, “everyone just calls me Winn though.” 

Lena shakes his hand. “Right, um, how can I help you?”

“I was um… I’ve been thinking of setting up some sort of trust fund for my kids’ education. Perhaps you could help me with that?”

“Um, yes. I can help with that. Why don’t we have a seat?” Lena gestures to one of the empty tables. “Do you have some paper and a pencil that I could use?” she asks Cat, sitting down across from Winn.

Cat nods and digs up a pad of paper and a pencil, sliding them over to Lena. A proud smile is on her face as she watches Lena prepare herself before she busies herself with her own work.

“What did you have in mind? A weekly draw on your pay?” Lena asks.

“Yes. I figured I’d just deposit it into the bank, Captain Corben told me to check with you first.”

“Well, he was right. You don’t want your money in a bank.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You’ll probably only get two-and-a-half, maybe three per cent a year. We can do a lot better than that. So, tell me, where would you like to send your kids? Harvard? Yale?”

* * *

“She did not say that. No. Fucking. Way.” Lucy sits across from Ms Grant, jaw slack and spoon limply held in her hand.

“Miss. Lane, I do encourage you to use more creative words,” Ms Grant chides. “And she did, I was very proud of her.” She shoots a slightly embarrassed Lena a supportive smile.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Alex mutters before bringing a spoonful of food to her mouth.

“Nicely done, Lena.” Nia grins.

“Makin’ yourself some friends here, Lena,” Kara says.

“I wouldn’t say ‘friends.’ I’m a convicted murderer who provides sound financial advice and planning strategies. That’s a wonderful pet to have.”

Alex, Nia, and Lucy erupt into laughter.

“Take the praise, Lena. You deserve it,” Cat says before standing and leaving the group.

“It got you out of the laundry at least,” Kara says once the laughter subsides.

“I was thinking it could do a bit more than that,” Lena says, and with the curious looks everyone shoots her, she explains further. “What about expanding the library? Get some new books in there.”

“Ms Grant’s been trying for years,” Alex says. “She’s been here long before Kara and I arrived and she’s been hounding Edge for more money all that time, probably longer knowing her.”

* * *

Later in the day, Lena finds Edge in his office.

“Sir, I was wondering if I could have some allocated to the library. I’d like to expand it,” Lena says.

“There’s nothing to spare; my budget’s stretched thin as it is.”

“Well, perhaps I could write to the State Senate and request the funds from them." 

Edge laughs, and it’s an uncomfortable and patronizing kind of laugh. “Far as them Republican boys are concerned, there are only three ways to spend the taxpayer’s money when it comes to prisons: more walls, more bars, and more guards.”

“I’d like to try though. I’ll send them a letter a week. They can’t ignore me forever.”

“They sure can! But you write your letters, I’ll even mail them for you.”

* * *

_And just like that, Lena started writing a letter a week, just like she said she would. And just like Edge said, Lena got no answers. But still, she kept going._

_By the time April rolled around, Lena did tax returns for half the guards at NC Pen. The following year, she did them all, including the Warden’s. Year after that, they rescheduled the start of the intramural baseball season to coincide with tax season. Guards on the opposing teams all remembered to bring their W-2 forms._ _In fact, Lena got so busy during tax time that she was allowed a staff. Got me out of the shop a month out of the year, and that was fine by me._

_And still, she kept sending those letters. I suppose that’s the thing about hope: makes you do things, regardless of how useless it seems._

* * *

OCTOBER 1955 

A wind blows through the prison yard, ruffling the ends of Lena’s hair, as she sits on the bleachers, appreciating the silence and serenity. It’s short-lived though, when barely a minute later Kara, Lucy, and Nia are dropping themselves around her, playfully bickering. She smiles at each of the women in greeting.

“Where’s Alex?” Lena asks, look to each of the women.

Knowing little smirks breakout among the group and Lucy spins around to face the prison yard, searching. “Down there.” She points to Alex talking with Maggie.

Lena follows Lucy’s line of sight. “Oh, I didn’t realize they’d become friends.”

“Friends is a strong word, Lena,” Kara says. “Alex prefers the term ‘extending an olive branch.’”

"Right." Lena glances back over the yard and sees Maggie laughing at something and Alex watching on with what can only be described as an adoring smile. A smile of her own breaks out across Lena’s face when she sees the interaction.

A looming shadow halts their conversation, and Lena isn’t sure what she expects to see when she turns around, but it’s certainly not John Corben.

“Luthor,” Corben says, he aggressively points to Lena. “With me. Now.” He walks off, and Lena shoots the others a confused look before following behind.

Lena follows Corben to the warden’s office and what she finds is perhaps the last thing she thought she’d see. Dozens of parcels litter the floor, a few guards pick through them, examining each crate.

“What’s all this?” Lena asks, looking at the crates in awe and confusion.

“You tell us! They’re all addressed to you, every damn one!” Corben shoves an opened letter to Lena.

Lena shaky and quick hands, Lena pulls the letter out and reads it aloud. “‘Dear Ms Luthor. In response to your repeated inquiries, the State Senate has allocated the enclosed funds for your library project.’” Lena pulls a check from the envelope and examines it, still in shock. “This is two hundred dollars,” she says, holding up the check.

“‘In addition, the Library District has generously responded with a charitable donation of used books and sundries. We trust this will fill your needs. We now consider the matter closed; please stop sending us letters. Yours truly, the State Comptroller’s office.’”

Lena gazes around at all the crates and boxes that fill the room and her eyes mist with emotion at the sight. A small grin tugs at her lips.

“I want all this cleared out before Edge gets back. Are we clear?” Corben says, pointing an accusatory finger at Lena, waiting for a response.

Lena nods, still in a daze. Corben leaves and Lena runs her fingers over the spines of the books she can see.

“You better get this stuff downstairs like the Captain said,” Winn says. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. When I get back, this is all gone, okay?”

Lena nods, again, still in a daze. Winn disappears, a comic in hand. Now alone, Lena begins to explore each of the boxes, her smile only growing with each book she sees. Giddy, she pulls a few out, flipping through the pages, touching them, smelling them. It’s euphoric and unrivalled 

Lena reaches for another box and pulls it open, this one doesn’t house books or comics, rather used records instead. Lena thumbs through the collection, stopping occasionally to examine one in better detail. She comes to a particular album – Mozart’s ‘Le Nozza de Figaro’ – pulls it out and runs her fingers over the worn sleeve.

Lena’s eyes fall to the record player in the corner of the room near the PA system, and an idea comes to mind. She stumbles over to the player, very carefully lays the record on the platter, and lowers the tonearm to her favourite cut. The needle hisses for a second and the music begins. As the melody fills the room, Lena loses herself in its familiar tone. She gets to her feet and locks the door before returning to the desk and turning on the PA system.

Lena flicks every switch to ‘on’ and there’s a squeal of feedback for a brief second before the melody plays throughout the entire prison. As the music begins the play through the prison, Lena reclines back in a chair and lets the music take hold of her. She moves her hands around the air in a languid fashion, as though she’s the conductor.

* * *

Kara’s in the prison workshop, pushing a plank of wood over a plainer when she hears two angelic voices come from the speaker. She stops what she’s doing and switches the machine off, the other prisoners working do the same. They stand stock still and look up at the speaker as the voices fill the room, transporting them far away from the stone walls that hold them.

This happens throughout the entire prison. In the laundry, loading dock, exercise yard, kitchen. Everyone abruptly stops what they’re doing, tasks forgotten, as they listen to the voices that spring from the speakers.

National City Penitentiary no longer exists, vanishing from the minds of every prisoner.

* * *

_To this day, I have no idea what those two women were singing about. Truth is, I don’t want to know. Some things are best left unsaid._

_I like to think they were singing about something so beautiful that it can’t be expressed in words and makes your heart ache because of it._ _Those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in this gray box dare dream. It was like a bird flapped into our cage and made all the walls and fences fade away, and for the briefest of moments, every last inmate in NC Pen felt free._

_Lena’s stunt got her two weeks in the hole, and to this day, I still remember the little smirk she wore when she finally came back. She never once regretted it._

* * *

JANUARY 1957

A series of iron bar doors open before Kara, several _clangs_ follow each other in quick succession. A guard nods her head, and Kara walks through the short corridor and emerges into a plain room. The same room she found herself in ten years earlier. She stands awkwardly by the same steel chair, waiting to be told to sit.

A woman – the only woman present at the table – looks up from her papers at the end of the table. She looks like a serious woman, though Kara thinks that might be because she’s had to work harder to get where she is today. 

“Sit,” the woman says, motioning to the chair with her pen.

Kara does so and everyone else at the table – all men – look up.

“Miss Danvers,” a man sitting at the centre of the table says, reading from the file open in front of him. “Says here that you’ve served twenty years of a forty-year sentence. Do you feel you’ve been rehabilitated?”

Kara knows that whatever she says won’t get her out of her, so she says what she said the first time she was asked, and she’s sure she repeated it word-for-word. “Yes, Sir. Absolutely. Being in this place has done wonders for me. I’ve learned my lesson, and I can honestly say that I’m a changed woman. I’m no longer a danger to society. No doubt about it.” She sighs at the end.

The people at the table don’t say anything, they don’t even stare at her like they did last time. One of the men simply reaches for a stamp and brings it down onto the parole form. In red ink, it reads: REJECTED.

* * *

Kara emerges out into the prison yard and sees Lena standing not too far away. She’s by her side in barely ten seconds. Lena says nothing, but the look she sends Kara is enough of a question.

Kara shrugs. “Same thing. Hard to believe it’s been twenty years though.”

“You wonder where it went. I wonder where ten years went.”

Kara nods, understanding and solemn. They wander over to the bleachers in silence and look out over the prison yard. Lena pulls a small box from her pocket and silently hands it to Kara. Kara looks at it, confused and curious, but takes it, nonetheless.

“It’s an anniversary gift,” Lena explains. “Open it.”

Kara does and inside the small box is a harmonica, bright aluminium. She takes the harmonica out of the box with careful hands and runs her thumb over the intricate pattern engraved into one side of it. “You remembered.”

“Of course, I did. I also had to go through one of your competitors though; wanted it to be a surprise. Hope you don’t mind.”

Kara waves off Lena’s concerns. “Thank you, Lena. It’s lovely.”

“You going to play something?”

Kara thinks, shakes her head softly and returns the harmonica to its box, closing it with a soft _click_. “Not today,” she says, a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes on her face.

* * *

When the sun finally dips below the horizon, and National City Penitentiary bathes in the moon’s harsh light, Kara sits in her cell. She grips the harmonica box in her hand and holds it over her chest. She takes the harmonica out of its box carefully and holds it in her hand, feels the familiar weight and cool metal against her skin.

Kara thinks of playing it, perhaps one of the songs Jerimiah had taught her so long ago. She even brings the harmonica to her lips, but before she plays anything, Kara puts it back in the box, and there it stays. The melody that itches to be played, nothing but a faint ghost of an old life.

* * *


	3. Act III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, folks - the end! Thank you for reading and sticking around this long. I do apologise that updates were far between, but the chapters take quite a while to write and edit, and I really wanted to keep the story in its three-act format.
> 
> As always, you can come say hi on Tumblr [@just-some-girlll](https://just-some-girlll.tumblr.com/); I’d love to hear your thoughts or just general ramblings, so please don’t be shy!
> 
> But yeah, thank you, and happy reading :)

* * *

FEBRUARY, 1957  
NATIONAL CITY PENITENTIARY

All the inmates huddle around the base of the bleachers as a guard stands two tiers up, handing out mail for the week. Lena’s name is called out and a letter is passed to the back of the crowd towards her waiting hands. Lena, confused as to why she’s receiving mail, pulls the letter out of the already opened envelope quickly. She reads through it once, and then once more.

“What’s up, Lena?” Alex asks.

“Yeah, what’d ya’ get?” Lucy slides up to Lena and bumps her shoulder.

Lena doesn’t say anything. Her eyes flicker across the page, and her grip on the piece of paper tightens.

Kara sees this, and she goes to rest her hand on Lena’s back, but Lena runs off before she has a chance to. She watches Lena disappear around a corner.

“Wonder what’s up with her,” Lucy says.

Alex and Maggie share a look, a look of concern and care for their friend that just ran off.

“Why don’t you go find her, Kara,” Maggie says.

Alex nods and smiles softly. She quirks her head in the direction Lena ran off to and mouths the word ‘go’.

Kara does.

Kara finds Lena sitting in the shadow of one of the prison buildings, her knees are drawn up to her chest, and her head is buried in the small space between her knees and chest. Kara approaches slowly and sits down beside her. She waits for Lena to speak first. They sit side-by-side, the brick cool against their backs and the dirt warm beneath them. Neither of them says anything, the silence almost palpable.

“Lex is dead,” Lena says, slightly muffled. She looks up now, eyes red and cheeks wet. “Lex is dead, and I don’t even know why I’m so upset. He was horrible. I shouldn’t be sad that he’s gone.”

Kara scoots closer, wraps her arms around Lena and holds her tight. “I know that he wasn’t a good person, but he was still your brother. You’re allowed to be sad that he’s gone. He was your family.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he did horrible things. He left me. They all did.”

Kara says nothing. She doesn’t know what to say, so she silently holds Lena and hopes that Lena knows how much she cares.

“Promise me, Kara. Promise that you won’t leave me, that you won’t forget about me, that you’ll-” Lena stops herself, realizing what she was just about to say, and she pulls herself away from Kara’s warm embrace.

Kara’s gaze is earnest and kind, searching for the rest of Lena’s sentence. “That I’ll…?” She thinks she knows what Lena was going to say, what she wants to say, but there’s doubt gnawing away at her the longer it goes unsaid. Kara wants it to be true. She wants so badly what she thinks to be true. “Talk to me, Lena. Please.”

Lena closes her eyes and breathes, deep, and prepares herself for what she’s about to say, consequences be damned. “Promise me.” She opens her eyes and locks her gaze with Kara’s. “Promise me that you’ll love me.”

Lena’s heart is beating at what she’s sure is a lethal rate as she waits for Kara’s response. She can feel it hammering against her chest, hear it so loud it’s almost deafening in her head.

The smile that spreads across Kara’s face settles her racing heart.

“I promise.”

There’s a moment of silence that passes between them, a moment for only the two of them. Kara’s faintly aware of the other inmates just around the corner, and she’s even sure that she hears Lucy yell at Alex about something – a ball maybe? But she doesn’t care.

Lena is in front of her, so close, and so very much in love, which is why what she does next doesn’t feel wrong or strange. It feels right and normal, as though slowly leaning closer, silently asking for permission, is something she’s done all her life. Something she’s meant to do.

Lena nods, quick. So quick that if everything hadn’t slowed down in Kara’s field of vision, she’s sure she would have missed it.

They pull each other in, and finally, _finally_ , their lips meet, and somehow, everything speeds up and slows down at the same time. Lena kisses Kara like she wants to be kissed, like no person has ever kissed her before. It’s soft and hot and breathy; not trying to win a battle but seeking a union and closeness; sharing one breath, one sensation, one timeless and passionate moment. It’s like the first kiss. The right kiss.

Kara and Lena pull apart only so they can catch their breaths. Kara finds Lena’s hands and brings them up to press delicate kisses to her knuckles.

“We’re your family, Lena,” Kara says. “Alex, Nia, Lucy, and Maggie. You have us. You have me. Always.”

“Always.” Lena allows herself to sink into Kara’s embrace, her warmth, her love. There they sit, in the shadows, wrapped in each other’s arms. And just for now, for this moment, Lena chooses to ignore the fact that a time will come when Kara will be released, when everyone will be released. When she will again, be alone.

* * *

JUNE, 1957

“Kara, you have to sit still,” Lena says, pair of scissors in hand and her focus on Kara’s hair.

Kara huffs. “Are you almost done?”

“I could have been done ten minutes ago, but you keep moving and asking if I’m almost done.” Lena makes a horizontal cut across Kara’s hair, trying to get both sides to match.

Lena takes a step back and regards her work. She smiles and then nods. “Done.”

Kara uses the small, slightly dirty, mirror Lena hands her to study her new look. It’s shorter now, not by much, but perhaps the biggest change is the fact that she now has a fringe that ends just above the brow of her glasses.

“I love it.” Kara looks up at Lena and smiles, soft and sincere. She looks around the small library they’re in – Ms Grant is over by the shelves loading books onto the cart, and Kara can hear Alex and Maggie’s muffled conversation growing closer out in the hallway. She leans up and presses a quick kiss to Lena’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Lena’s cheeks tinge just the slightest bit red. She ducks her head and busies herself with cleaning the strands of blonde hair scattered across the floor. She returns the scissors to their hiding spot in an air vent so they’re out of reach, before turning back to face Kara.

“You really like it? You’re not just saying that?”

Kara nods her head and stands to move closer to Lena. “Really! I think it’s great. I feel like a whole new person now and I couldn’t happier that you’re the one who gave me this great new do.” She runs a hand through her hair before bringing both her hands to rest on Lena’s hips.

Kara scans her eyes around the library again. Ms Grant is still busy with the book cart and Alex and Maggie are now bickering about something near the crates of records pushed into a corner. Satisfied they’re as alone as they’ll ever be while in a prison, Kara leans down ever so slightly and presses a quick kiss to the tip of Lena’s nose.

The gesture causes a smile to break out across Lena’s face, and Kara’s heart warms and swells.

“You know, for a convicted felon, you’re pretty cute,” Lena says.

Kara grins. “I could say the same about you.”

Lena rolls her eyes but smiles and presses a kiss to Kara’s cheek before pulling away. “Come on, there’s work to be done.”

* * *

_Lena is perhaps the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, so, after she was sent two-hundred-dollars back in late ’55, she didn’t once stop sending those letters. In fact, she started writing two a week instead of one. And in 1959, they finally clued into the fact Lena wouldn’t be bought off with just one two-hundred-dollar cheque. A committee voted on an annual payment of five-hundred-dollars._

_Those cheques came in once a year like clockwork, and you’d be damn surprised at just how far Lena managed to stretch them. She made deals with book clubs and charity groups. She even bought remaindered books by the pound._

* * *

JANUARY, 1962

A movie that Kara’s really not paying any attention to plays on the blank wall of the rec-room. The picture is grainy and jumpy, and every so often, Kara catches a line of dialogue, but with the lights out and Lena sitting flush against her side, she’s finding it nearly impossible to focus on the movie.

Lena’s drawing soft mindless patterns on Kara’s thigh, and has been for what Kara’s sure is hours.

Kara grabs Lena’s hand and laces their fingers together, and the action pulls Lena out of the movie. She leans in, just enough that no one will notice, and whispers into her ear.

“Come with me?”

Lena squeezes Kara’s hand and nods, silently agreeing.

Together, they leave the room, passing by Winn who’s on duty for the evening. He offers them each a kind smile and Kara mouths the words ‘thank you’ as they pass by. Kara honestly thinks of just pulling Lena into the nearest corner and pressing her up against the wall, but when she sees that the floors have just been polished, an idea springs to mind.

“Take off your shoes,” Kara says, once they're out of earshot.

“Excuse me?” Lena looks at Kara, baffled.

“You heard me.” Kara’s grinning now, already taking off her own shoes.

Lena’s known Kara for long enough now to know when to just agree with her and trust that she knows what she’s doing. A smile spreads across her face as she begins to take off her shoes.

Now in her socks, Lena holds her shoes in one hand and Kara’s hand in the other, waiting for whatever comes next.

“You ready?” Kara asks, and the grin she gives Lena manages to light up the dark hallway they’re standing in.

“For what?”

Kara says nothing, she just starts sprinting down the hallway, pulling Lena along with her. Lena lets out a squeak of surprise, but she doesn’t try to fight Kara. She happily runs along with her, and when Kara stops running, allowing herself to slide along the floor, Lena does too.

The end of the hallway approaches quickly, and instead of just stopping, Kara and Lena tumble to the floor in a laughing heap. Their laughter dissolves into laboured breaths, but the feeling of absolute liberation remains.

“I’ve got something for you,” Kara says. She wasn’t meant to say that. She was planning on giving Lena her gift later, perhaps in a more romantic way. But right now feels right.

“Do you now?” Lena smirks and rolls onto her side to face Kara.

Kara rolls onto her side and hums, a happy smile in place.

“Are you going to tell me what it is or…?”

Kara jumps up with a sudden burst of energy. She extends her hands down to Lena. “Come on.”

Lena accepts Kara’s hands and allows herself to be pulled up to a stand. “Where are you taking me, Kara Danvers?”

Kara says nothing, just leads Lena into the communal showers that are just off the hallway. She pulls Lena into one of the stalls and pushes her up against the wall underneath the showerhead. Their lips hover at barely a hairs width apart, their breaths mingling together. And just as Lena thinks she can’t take anymore, just as she’s about to swiftly close the gap between them, Kara pulls back and holds up a ring in the space between them.

Lena’s gaze falls to the ring but Kara’s remains fixed on Lena, her smile somehow brighter.

“What’s this?” Lena says, despite being able to see it clearly in the moonlight that seeps in.

“A ring. I smuggled a small piece of silver in and made it for you while I was in the shop.”

Lena’s heart swoons.

“This is your fifteenth year in here, so I figured I’d get you something. And I know that silver is for twenty-five years, but it’s my twenty-fifth year so I thought it would work.”

A long moment of silence passes, and Kara grows nervous.

“Is this too much? It’s too much, isn’t it? That’s fine, you don’t have to wear it. I just thou-”

Lena surges forward, finally locking their lips together. It takes Kara a moment to jump into action, but when she does, she returns the kiss with just as much fervour and zeal. Her hands fall to Lena’s waist, drawing her impossibly closer, and Lena brings her arms up and around Kara’s neck, hands twisting through her hair and tugging gently.

Lena pulls back and smirks at the dreamy look across Kara’s face.

“In case it isn’t obvious, I love it.”

Kara reaches for Lena’s left hand and slides the ring onto her ring finger. It’s a perfect fit.

“I love it and I love you,” Lena says.

“I love you too.”

* * *

_The following year, Lena turned an old storeroom smelling of turpentine, into the best prison library the state of California had ever seen. And we were all damn proud of her._

_That was also the year that Edge announced his famous ‘Inside-Out’ program. It made all the papers and even got his picture on page six. I know for a fact that more than a handful of ladies decided to… add to the picture in creative ways. If you ask me and anyone else in NC Pen, he had it coming._ _He marketed the program as a way to integrate us back into society, but really, it was all about making money. There are plenty of ways to make more money and Edge’s way just so happened to take the form of cheap labour and shitty materials. It didn’t matter that we didn’t see a cent of that money either._

_And behind every shady deal, behind every single dollar earned was Lena, keeping the books._

* * *

AUGUST, 1965

"How’s this whole thing work anyway?” Kara asks one gloomy afternoon as her and Lena sit in the far corner of the prison library, their bodies pressed together and arms holding each other tight.

“What thing?” Lena asks, lazily drawing a pattern on Kara’s hand.

“The scam thing you have going with Edge. From what I’ve heard, it’s quite the operation you have.”

“What you’ve heard isn’t even the half of it.”

“What’d you mean?”

“He’s got scams going that would put even the most financially corrupt people to shame. He’s got kickbacks on his kickbacks. There’s a river of dirty money running through this place, Kara.”

“Right, but money like that can be a problem. Sooner or later you’ll have to explain where it all came from.”

“That’s where I come in. I filter it clean using stocks, securities, tax-free allocations. I send that money out into the world and then when it comes back, it’s clean. By the time Edge retires, I’ll have made him a millionaire.”

Kara whistles, impressed. “Someone ever catches on, he’s gonna wind up in prison himself.”

Lena looks up at Kara, mock offence across her face. “Now, Darling, I thought you had a little more faith in my skills than _that_.”

Kara kisses Lena’s cheek and smiles. “I know you’re good, but all that paper leaves a trail. If someone ever gets curious – FBI, IRS – that trail’s gotta lead to somebody.”

“Sure it will. But not to me and certainly not to Edge.”

“Who then?”

“Peter and Maria Stevens.”

Kara laughs. “Who?”

“Peter and Maria Stevens,” Lena repeats, smiling at Kara’s amusement. “They’re the guilty ones. They’re the ones with the bank accounts where the filtering process starts. Anyone ever decides to trace all that money, all they’re going to find are the Stevens.”

“Yeah, okay, but who’re they?”

“Peter and Maria Stevens, married in 1947, no kids, Peter works in real estate, and Maria in copywriting.”

Kara quirks her head and furrows her brows, her glasses shift upwards with the movement.

Off Kara’s look, Lena explains further. “I made them up. Conjured them out of thin air. They don’t exist – except on paper.”

“You can’t just make people up.”

“If you know how the system works and where the cracks are, you can do just about anything. It’s truly remarkable with what you can accomplish by mail. They both have birth certificates, social security cards, they even own property. I was initially only going to make up one person, but figured I’d better do a couple in case.”

“In case of what? They get invited to a party?”

Lena laughs. “I don’t know why. Could be useful one day.”

“Have I mentioned how smart you are?”

“Once or twice,” Lena grins. “But a girl likes to be reminded.”

“Well, you-” Kara punctuates this by pressing a kiss to Lena’s lips- “are an incredibly gifted, unfairly beautiful, brilliant woman, and I couldn’t be more honoured to know you.”

“You’re sweet.” Lena returns Kara’s kiss but she keeps it brief. “It’s funny though, on the outside I was an honest woman. I had to come to prison to become a criminal.”

A silence falls between the pair, and they can hear the faint patter of rain starting to fall against the glass, gradually picking up intensity.

“Does it ever bother you? All the scams, I mean?”

“Sometimes,” Lena says ruefully. “But those scams are the reason we have a library, a library where a dozen women have gotten their high school diplomas. Why do you think Edge lets me do all this?” Lena gestures widely to the space around them.

“To keep you happy.”

“Exactly. I just have to remember who I’m doing it all for. If I stop cleaning the money, then Edge _will_ stop all this. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

* * *

_I suppose, that up until then, Lena’s time in NC Pen has gone rather well, all things considered. But then Eve Tessmacher came to NC Pen at the end of 1965 on a five year stretch for what she said was breaking and entering. We welcomed her into our little rag-tag family, and she fit right in. Lena even took her under her wing and became a sort of big sister figure for her._

_We didn’t even see it coming._

* * *

FEBRUARY, 1966

“So, what’s Ms Grant in for?” Eve questions, looking between Kara, Lena, and Nia and then back up to Cat who’s currently checking through the returned books. “And don’t just say that the lawyer screwed her over. One of you must know what she did.”

Nia shrugs and goes back to doing her work – writing a story she hopes to submit to the National City Times. Lena and Kara share a look before Kara laughs and Lena rolls her eyes with fond admiration.

“What?” Eve looks between the pair.

Lena nods in Eve’s direction while holding Kara’s gaze.

“No one knows,” Kara says.

“Bullshit.” Eve laughs.

“Really, she’s been in here longer than anyone, and she’s never told anyone what she did. The only thing we do know is that she won’t ever get out.”

Eve looks to Lena, silently asking if it’s true. Lena nods.

“You must have some idea, though.”

“We do.” Kara smirks. “There’s a prison wide pool going on.”

“Can’t you just ask one of the guards?”

Kara barks out a laugh and Cat shoots her a warning look. “They won’t tell us anything.”

“What do you think she did then?”

Kara leans forward in her chair, urges Eve to do the same. She glances over her shoulder before turning back to Eve. “Mob boss.”

Eve scoffs and leans back in her chair.

“Really.” Kara sits up. “I mean, she looks innocent, but that woman is wicked smart. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she has a series of illegal setups. In fact, it would surprise me if she _didn’t_ run some kind of underground organization.”

Lena laughs softly as she reads through the forms stacked in two neat piles – ‘done’ and ‘to be done’. She blindly reaches out to squeeze Kara’s upper arm and then drops her hand to lace their fingers together.

* * *

AUGUST, 1966

The siren for evening count blares out across the prison – three short blasts followed by a monotonous, staticky message. The library quickly empties, but Lena decides to remain behind for a few minutes – one of the few perks of her position in the prison. The door creaks open, and Lena expects it to be Kara coming to pick her up so they can walk back together. It’s not. Eve sticks her head in.

“Eve?”

“Hi, Lena. Just want to get something to read after lights out.”

Lena smiles kindly and nods her head. “Be quick.”

Eve moves past Lena’s workstation by the entrance and weaves her way through the stacks, disappearing towards the back where the educational books are kept.

Several minutes pass and Lena begins to finish up for the night. She shuts off her lamp and pushes her chair in. Lena lingers by the door, waiting for Eve, and peeks out into the hallway to check for Kara. She’s not there.

The minutes draw on and Lena grows antsy. Edge has given her a little leave way with rules, but Eve doesn’t have that same freedom.

“Eve?” Lena calls out.

No answer.

“Eve!” Lena calls out again, this time louder as she ventures into the stacks.

Lena walks through the aisles, checking for Eve, and it isn’t until she reaches the very back of the library, that it’s obvious Eve isn’t here.

Lena turns around, ready to check out in the hallway, but when she spins around, she’s met with something she never thought she’d see: Eve holding a pair of scissors, the pair of scissors Lena uses to cut hair, the pair of scissors she keeps hidden in an air duct behind her desk.

“Don’t scream,” Eve says with a seemingly rehearsed ease. She holds the scissors in a firm grip and points the sharp end to Lena as she takes slow, measured steps towards Lena, pushing her back. A menacing smile graces her face.

“What are you doing?” Lena’s back collides with a wall, and she can feel the uneven surface digging into her back with how hard she’s pressing herself against it.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to kill you.”

“What happened to you, Eve?”

Eve laughs, manic. “What happened to _me_? I’m not the one who’s serving two life sentences for murder!”

Lena glances to her right for barely a split second, hoping to see Kara pushing through the doors. She doesn’t.

“You want to know something really funny?”

Lena says nothing.

“It’s not even your fault. The murders – I know you’re innocent, and I know who did them.” Eve pauses and holds Lena’s gaze, an uncomfortably evil smirk tugging at her lips. “Me.”

Lena chokes on air and maybe the saliva in her mouth. Eve steps back to laugh and even wipes an amused tear from her eye. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

Sounding hoarse and broken, Lena asks, “Why?”

“To get rid of you, of course,” Eve says so easily and matter-of-factly, as though admitting it is the most natural thing to do. She even smiles and it sends a shiver down Lena’s spin and jolts out to her fingers and toes. “Lex had big plans for the family company before his untimely death, and he knew you’d try and stop him. So, I told him I’d take care of it.”

“You killed my husband?”

Eve laughs. “No, silly, _I_ didn’t do it. I paid someone else to do it. I did, of course, tell Lex that I was the one who did it. He seemed to like me more after that. Anyway, before he died, he said his greatest regret was not getting rid of you properly. I promised to rectify that.”

Lena can feel her eyes starting to burn and a lump forming in the back of her throat.

“He did have a message for you, though: you don’t deserve the Luthor name.” There’s a sinister smile that tugs on her lips and she goes to take a step towards Lena.

“You’re wrong. The Luthor name doesn’t deserve Lena,” a voice says. Kara steps out from behind the shelves and in one swift motion, she raises a book – an introductory law textbook that Lena managed to get her hands on the year before – and swings. The book collides with Eve and she falls to the ground, still conscious but disorientated.

The commotion draws the attention of a guard walking past, and lucky for everyone it’s Winn. He ambles in and studies the scene: Eve on the ground, groaning and mumbling; Kara grasping a book, her knuckles turning white; and Lena pushed against a shelf, looking between Kara and Eve.

“What the hell happened?” Winn asks, despite being able to put the pieces of the scene together. He kicks the scissors away and crouches by Eve to cuff her hands behind her back. “I’m taking her back to her cell, you two stay here. I’ll have to get Corben too.”

A tense silence occupies the room, it’s restricting and suffocating everything breaks when Lena finds Kara’s gaze. She pushes herself away from the shelf and runs to Kara, throws her arms around her shoulders and holds her so close and tight for fear of losing her.

Kara’s hands hover in the air for a split second as she processes everything that just happened, but after a moment, she returns the embrace with just as much strength. Lena buries her head in Kara’s neck and tries to find solace and grounding in the familiar smell and feeling of being surrounded by Kara. Kara rubs soft circles into her back and whispers quiet reassurances meant only for Lena’s ears.

A moment passes like this.

“She did it,” Lena says into Kara’s neck.

“Did what?”

“The murders.” Lena pulls back. “Lex thought I was a threat to his plan, whatever that was. And Eve was desperate for his approval. She set everything up. Hired some goon to do it for her.”

Kara’s mouth opens and closes, trying and failing to grasp at words and sounds. After a moment, she regains her ability to speak. “Is it possible to, I dunno, get your sentence appealed then?”

Lena shakes her head. “No. I’ll be made out as a desperate felon, and no doubt they’ll prove Eve insane and discredit everything she said. And besides, I doubt Edge will let me leave. He’ll just cover everything up.”

Lena returns to Kara’s warm embrace and lets herself soak it all up.

* * *

_Lena was right – about Edge covering everything up. We spent five minutes together in that library, just holding each other close. When Winn came back, he was led by Edge and Corben. Edge listened for all of ten seconds, but once Lena mentioned getting her sentence appealed, he ordered me, Winn and Corben out._

_Lena spent three days in the hole after that._

_Edge did see to it that Eve was transferred to a different facility – someplace in the desert, I think. Lena was never really the same after all was said and done. We all tried our best to help her, and I know she appreciated it, but I think that was something she wanted to figure out on her own. I understood that, and everyone else did too. And so, life in NC Pen went on._

* * *

SEPTEMBER, 1966

Kara wanders the prison yard alone. She finds Lena sitting in the shadow of one of the looming buildings, poking listlessly through the dust for small pebbles. Kara smiles and approaches, she waits for Lena to acknowledge her, to say something, but nothing comes. Kara sits on the ground beside Lena. Nothing is said for the longest time. Lena sifts through the dust and Kara watches.

Softly, so softly that Kara almost misses it, Lena says, “My husband used to say that I was difficult to know. Complained about it all the time actually. Being here has changed me, and for the better, I’d say. It’s strange, but I’ve felt freer these last few decades, more like myself. And I think I have you to thank for that.” Lena reaches for Kara’s hand and laces their fingers together. “Thank you.”

Kara is silent, but a warmth blooms through her entire being and she squeezes Lena’s hand.

After a moment of silence, Lena asks, “Where do you think you’ll go when you get out of here?”

“Probably wind up back here soon enough.” Kara says it as a joke, even laughs a little, but Lena looks up at her, completely serious.

“Don’t say that, Kara. You’re strong, you’ll be okay out there, I know it.”

“Well, what makes you think I wanna leave you then?”

Lena doesn’t say anything.

“When I said forever.” Kara runs her thumb over the silver band on Lena’s left ring finger. “I meant it. You and me, I’m in.”

“Kara,” Lena sighs and rests her head against Kara’s shoulder.

“I know.” The words go unsaid, but Kara knows, has always known. She’s known since day one that a time would come when she would have to leave.

“You know where I’d go?” Lena says after a moment in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Zihuatanejo. It’s this little town in Mexico, right on the Pacific Ocean. I want a little house right on the beach. So close that I can see the ocean from my bed and feel the breeze wafting through the house.”

“That sounds nice.”

Lena hums. “Do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“When you get out of here, I want you to go to this hayfield up near Parthas. There’s this one field that’s got a long rock wall with a big oak tree at the north end. It’s gorgeous there, Kara. I wish I could take you. It’s where I’d go whenever I was about to make an important decision.

“Promise me that when you get out of here, you’ll find that spot. At the base of the wall, you’ll find a piece of black volcanic glass. You’ll find something under the rock, and I want you to have it.”

“What’s buried there?”

“You’ll just have to go and see.”

There’s so much that Kara wants to ask, but something feels different about today. It feels real and final, so Kara says nothing. She sits beside Lena in the shadows, with their fingers laced tightly together and heads resting against one another. She savours the moment.

When Lena announces that she has to leave, Kara doesn’t want to let go. She wants to stay here, in this moment, forever.

“I love you, Kara Danvers. I wish more than anything that we’d met on the outside. Our life would have been great.” Lena presses a lingering kiss to Kara’s lips and squeezes her hand once more before dropping it and leaving.

Kara doesn’t get a chance to see Lena for the rest of the day, and by the time night falls and she’s in her cell, Kara can’t get to sleep. The conversation she had with Lena less than eight hours ago gnaws away at her. She gets no sleep that night.

* * *

The morning that follows is a first for National City Penitentiary. It starts out normal - Kara stares up at the cracked concrete ceiling, and guards move about on the ground floor, preparing for morning count.

A siren blast rings once and then every cell door in the block slides open with a _clang_ that echoes through the cavernous space. Kara stands and moves to stand out on the rickety gangway. She glances to her left towards Lena’s cell. She normally shoots Lena a warm smile, one that’s meant only for her, but this morning is different.

Lena isn’t there.

“Missing prisoner. Tier two cell twelve!” a junior guard calls out.

Corben checks his list. “Luthor! Get out here.”

When no response comes and no one emerges from the cell, a group of guards, led by Corben, climb the stairs and charge down the gangway, pushing inmates aside.

“Goddamnit, Luthor, you’re holding me up. You’d better be de-”

When they arrive at the cell their faces go slack.

“What. The. Fuck,” Corben says.

Corben stands in the cell. It’s completely empty. Everything is in its place, except Lena isn’t there.

Chaos follows. Prisoners are ordered back to their cells and an alarm blares throughout the entire prison.

Everything seems to slow for Kara though. She stands in her cell, stock still and staring ahead. She’s aware of guards running around in a panicked frenzy, and of the distant alarm that blares through the prison. But all she can focus on is Lena. Lena isn’t in her cell. Lena is gone. And then, a grin spreads across Kara’s face. Lena escaped.

It takes all of ten minutes for Edge to charge into the cell block and storm up the stairs with an entourage of guards and Corben behind him. “I want every woman in this block questioned! Start with that friend of hers.”

“Who?” Corben asks.

Edge stops in front of Kara’s cell. “Her.” He stares her down for a moment before moving on to Lena’s cell at the end of the gangway. Edge pushes past the guards that crowd Lena’s cell and steps in himself. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone, sir,” one of the guards says.

“I can see that! What I want to know is where she is.” He snatches the list from Corben’s hand. “This is last night’s count. Luthor’s name is on this list. She was in her cell at lights out! Stands to reason that she’d still be here now! I want her found. Not tomorrow. Not after breakfast. Now!”

The guard scurries away, leaving just Corben and Edge in Lena’s cell.

“Get me that friend of hers. Now!”

Corben disappears and then reappears a moment later with Kara.

“Well?” Edge stands in front of Kara and tries to stare her down.

“Well, what?” Kara doesn’t fold under his gaze. She stands tall, shoulders back and keeps her expression even.

“I see you two together all the time. She must have told you something.”

“She didn’t.”

Edge yells a string of incomprehensible curses. He grabs The Bible that rests neatly on the made bunk and tosses it to the floor. It flies open and instead of seeing complete pages of scripture, resting in a carved-out space within the pages, is Lena’s rock hammer.

“What the fuck.” Edge takes the rock hammer, now worn down to the nub, and examines it. “What the fuck is this?!” He waves the rock hammer around, shoves it into Kara and Corben’s face.

When no answer comes, he throws it to the floor and spins around to grab a handful of rocks from the window ledge. “How did she get that in here?” He hurls a rock. “How did no one find it?” He throws another rock. “How the fuck is that possible?” He throws a final rock, this time at the poster of Ingrid Bergman on the wall, except, instead of it being met with the resistance of a solid concrete wall, it tears through the paper.

It takes a moment for this to sink in with everyone, but when it finally does, all eyes go to the poster. There’s a small hole in the poster. There shouldn’t be, but there is.

Edge reaches up and sinks his finger into the hole. His entire hand disappears into the wall. He rips the poster away in an almost blind rage.

Behind the poster is a tunnel. A long crumbling tunnel that leads to freedom.

* * *

_In 1966, Lena Luthor escaped from National City Penitentiary. All they found of her was a muddy set of prison clothes, a bar of soap, and an old rock hammer worn down to the nub. Lena once said to Lucy that maybe they could tunnel out by the time ’65 rolled around. She was only a year off._

_Lena had a real passion for everything science, and geology was a nice little hobby of hers. Geology is the study of pressure and time. That’s all it takes really: pressure and time. That, and a damn big poster to cover the tunnel._

_A person’ll do just about anything to keep their mind occupied in prison. I would later learn that Lena’s favourite prison hobby was tunnelling through her wall at night, and then totin’ her wall out into the exercise yard in the morning, one handful at a time._

_It doesn’t take much to push someone to their breaking point, Lena was near hers, and after Eve’s betrayal, she decided that she’d been here just about long enough._

_The morning after Lena escaped, a woman nobody had ever seen before, strolled into National City Bank. Until that moment, she didn’t exist – except on paper._

* * *

With a type of confidence that Lena hasn’t quite felt in all its brilliance since she was young and first sneaking out in the dead of night, she pushes through the glass doors and strides into a bank. It’s by no means as impressive as some of the banks closer to the city’s centre, but it certainly isn’t deprived. She approaches the front counter and offers a kind, genuine smile to the woman behind the counter.

“I’d like to withdraw some money and close an account,” Lena says.

The woman gives her a once over, sceptical.

Lena places the necessary account information and an ID on the counter and slides it across to the woman. The woman regards her for a moment, again, sceptical, before doing a quick search for the account name.

“Accounts with more than fifty thousand dollars require a manager to sign off on,” the woman says.

Lena nods and the woman beckons Lena behind the counter and leads her to a plain office with a man sitting behind a beech wood desk.

After a brief conversation with the man – who was initially reticent about closing the account, but after Lena’s quick explanation of _my husband and I need a change and have decided to live abroad_ (a lie which isn’t completely false) – he orders that the account be closed and that all funds be given to Lena in the form of a cashiers cheque.

Just as she’s about to leave – fifty thousand dollars richer – Lena requests that a small parcel be added to the bank’s outgoing mail.

* * *

_Mrs Stevens visited just shy of a dozen banks in National City that morning. All told, she blew town with almost four-hundred-thousand dollars of Warden Edge’s money. Severance pay for nineteen years of hard work._

_At one of the banks Lena visited that morning, she requested that a small parcel be added to their outgoing mail. In that parcel was a note, which she had written, that detailed every illegal act that Edge had overseen, as well as a ledger that linked him, and several others, to almost twenty years of financial corruption._

_An arrest warrant was issued immediately by the FBI, and for the second time that month, NC Pen made the front page of the paper. John Corben was among those arrested, and I wasn’t there to see it, but I heard that he sobbed so much that the arresting officers had to pick him up from the ground and drag him away._

_Word travelled fast in NC Pen, and Edge had no intention of going quietly. Winn told me that Edge had planned to shoot himself, but before he could, the officers found and cuffed him. I like to think that at that moment, the only thing that Edge could think about, was how the hell Lena Luthor ever got the best of him. And really, anyone who knew Lena would be able to answer that question._

_Edge doubted Lena. That was his first mistake. His second was thinking that Lena wasn’t a fighter. And his third and final mistake was trying to take her hope._

* * *

NOVEMBER, 1966

Kara stands at the back of the group of inmates crowded around the base of the bleachers, a guard two tiers up, reading names aloud and handing mail down to the crowd. Alex, Maggie, Nia, and Lucy are all huddled around her, talking and laughing, though Kara isn’t really sure what.

Since Lena’s escape, Kara’s found herself in an almost mindless cycle of eat, work and sleep. It repeats itself. Every day. And Kara found that she didn’t mind the cycle when Lena was with her. Having Lena made everything bearable, now, it’s just painful.

Kara’s pulled out of her absent staring by her friends calling her name and Alex gently nudging her with her shoulder.

Alex is holding a postcard, offering it to Kara. “It’s for you.”

Kara takes it and flips it over. It’s blank, save for her name and a postmark, which reads ‘Imperial Beach, California.’

Without warning, Kara’s running off, her destination clear in mind. She dashes along long and empty corridors, skids across the recently cleaned floors, and by the time she finally reaches her destination, she’s almost out of breath.

Kara tumbles into the library, Ms Grant giving her a stern warning look, it’s meaning clear: be quiet. She offers an apologetic smile and ambles over to where she knows the educational books are kept. She makes quick work of finding the atlas, and with the book in hand, Kara goes to the spot at the very back of the library where her and Lena would sit and talk. It’s their spot, and it feels right being there for this.

Kara flips through the pages, stopping when she finds the one she wants. She traces her finger across the page and stops when she lands on Imperial Beach, California.

A wide, uncontrollable, grin spreads across her face. Imperial Beach, California. It’s right near the border.

Lena made it.

* * *

_The months that followed Lena’s escape weren’t easy. I was happy that she was free, but I missed her more than anything._

_Old habits are hard to break, and without Lena around, I found myself slipping back into them, but my family is nothing if not determined and stubborn. Alex and Maggie made it their duty to keep a sisterly watch on me, Lucy kept me busy with elaborate games to pass the time, and Nia was her usual hopeful self. I don’t know how long I would have lasted without them._

* * *

JANUARY, 1967

An iron bar door slides open with an enormous _clang_ , and Kara emerges from a dark hallway into a stark room just like she’s done before. There are five men and two women at a long table and a lone chair faces them.

“Sit,” a man says.

Kara does.

“Says here that you’ve served thirty years of a forty-year sentence. Do you feel you’ve been rehabilitated?” A different man this time says. He’s much younger than everyone else occupying the table, and he clearly thinks he’s in charge. His hair is dark, slicked back with far too much gel, and his suit looks new, almost unworn.

Kara doesn’t answer, she just stares off through the barred windows behind the board. Seconds tick by and the parole board exchange glances. The young man clears his throat.

“Would you like me to repeat the question?”

“I heard you.” Kara brings her attention back to the board. “Rehabilitated. Let’s see now. You know, I have no idea what that word means.”

The young man, clearly amused, sits up from his relaxed position. “Well, it means that you’re ready to rejoin society as a-”

“I know what you think it means,” Kara says, loudly and unapologetically interrupting the man. “Me, I think it’s a made-up word. A politician’s word. A word so young men like yourself can wear a suit and tie and have a job. What do you really want to know? Am I sorry for what I did?”

A woman this time says, “Are you?” She leans forward, almost earnest and curious.

“Yes. If I could go back and talk some sense into the younger me then I would. I’d tell her to find an honest way to live, so that everything she experiences won’t be behind a wall. I’ve felt love and pain and all those other things that people say make you human, and I wish I could’ve done all that stuff free. But rehabilitated is just some bullshit word, so you can go ahead and stamp that form there and stop wasting my time. Because it doesn’t matter what I say, and it never has.”

The parole board just stare, and Kara sits, drumming her fingers against her thigh. A moment later, one of the women reach for a rubber stamp and slams it down on the form. In a deep red ink is the word ‘APPROVED.’

* * *

“Be safe, yeah?” Alex holds Kara tightly. She doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to say goodbye to her sister.

“When have I ever not been?” Kara tries to joke, but there’s a shakiness to her voice. She wants to leave – she so badly wants to leave – but it’s hard. Leaving National City Penitentiary means leaving Alex, Lucy, Nia, and Maggie. It means leaving her family.

Alex pulls away from the hug and gives her sister a well-meaning glare. “Just don’t fuck this up, okay? I don’t want to see you back in here. You’re done with all that and you’re gonna go live the best life possible.”

“I will.” Kara nods, smiling through the tears that are starting to form.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Alex nods. “Now, don’t come rushing back here to visit me, I’ll be okay. But I do want a letter one day soon. I want to know how you’re going. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. Any more big sister advice?”

Alex pulls Kara into a hug once more. “Just be safe.”

They pull away one last time and Kara leaves. She finds the rest of her friends, giving them tight hugs and promises of letters. When everything’s been said, she collects her belongings and Winn leads her out to the main gates.

“Good luck out there, Kara,” Winn says.

“Thanks.” Kara smiles, and she finds that she actually means it.

There are three short siren blasts as Kara waits at the inner gate. She watches the gate roll open and she steps through. The gate closes behind her, and Kara walks up to the next gate, the gate that will set her free.

She watches the final gate slowly open; it feels like years that she stands and watches it, but as the seconds tick by, and more and more of the outside world is exposed, Kara can’t help but stop the fluttery feeling that takes hold in her stomach.

The gate is open, and she steps through. For the first time in thirty years, Kara sees the world as it is. Not in some film and not behind a wall or a fence. It’s raw and unfiltered and she’s so glad she’s out.

* * *

_I didn’t have much when I got out. The parole board set me up with a small room in a share house. It wasn’t much – just a bed, desk and small cupboard for some clothes – but it served its purpose. They even set me up with a job at a small grocery store. I just packed bags for people, but it was something to pass the time, I guess._

_It took me a while to work up the courage to go find that rock wall and tree Lena was telling me about. I missed her so much, and I think a small part of me wasn’t ready to be in that space yet. But there’s this light inside me, a flame, that can’t be blown out. NC Pen tried to take my free will, my individuality, my spirit, everything that made me who I am. Lena made sure they never did, so, in the middle of spring, I finally went to Parthas and found that rock wall._

* * *

APRIL, 1967  
PARTHAS

Kara walks alongside the old, decrepit rock wall and off in the distance, at the top of a small hill, she can see the tree that Lena told her about all those years ago. Kara runs the rest of the way and when she finally reaches the tree, she collapses to the ground.

Kara lays on the ground for a while, taking in the sensation of lush grass against her bare arms, the crispness to the air, and the sun that feels strangely warmer now that she’s free.

She begins searching the stone wall for the rock Lena told her about, and after ten minutes of searching, she finds a black volcanic rock at the base of the wall. She pulls it out and behind it is a small rusted tin. Kara opens it and inside are two envelopes enclosed in a plastic bag. She opens the envelope that says ‘Kara’ first and reads the letter inside:

‘Dearest Kara,

‘I’m so, so sorry that I left you. I love you more than life itself, and it nearly killed me to leave you. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about you.

‘But you’ve come this far, and maybe you’re willing to come a little further. You remember the name of the town I told you about, don’t you? I’m sure I’ll have a hard time making friends down there (you know me), so I would love it, more than anything, if you’d come down to stay. I’ll keep an eye out for you and the chessboard at the ready.

‘Remember, Kara, hope is a good thing, perhaps the best thing, and no good thing ever dies. Hope is what kept me going all those years, and I hope it’s what will keep you going. I’ll be hoping that this letter finds you, and that it finds you well.

‘All my love, Lena.’

Kara reads through the letter twice more before she carefully folds it up and holds it over her chest. Tears are slipping from her eyes now and she can’t find it in herself to care. They’re happy tears – possibly the happiest tears she’s ever cried. Kara reaches for the other envelope and opens it. Inside is a stack of new fifty-dollar bills, twenty of them. A thousand dollars to get to Lena.

As Kara walks back across the field, a new, unbreakable hope instilled deep within her, she slides the harmonica out of her pocket. She regards the instrument for a moment, and with a smile and wet cheeks, she finally plays it. She’s a little rusty to begin with, but eventually, a low and warm tune starts to play through the field, and it fills her entire being, carrying her to where she needs to go.

* * *

Kara returns to her small room, and suddenly, as though a switch was flicked, she sees everything in a new light. The room is still its plain, bland self, with peeling wallpaper, dusty surfaces, and stained carpet, but there’s hope inside her now. It’s spreading through the room, giving it a new life.

She quickly packs what little possessions she owns and sits down at the desk pushed against a wall to write a letter:

‘Alex,

‘For what I hope to be the final time in my life, I’m going to commit a crime: parole violation. I know we agreed that it’d be you and me against the world, but things have changed, and I hope you’re okay with that. You’ve been the best sister I could have asked for, and I hope that I haven’t been too bad. Thank you for watching out for me these last few decades. You’ve done more than enough, and I love you for it.

‘Please enjoy your life with Maggie. You have something real with her, and someone very wise once told me to hold onto those real things. I promise that we’ll find each other again, but for now, I want you to know that for the first time in a very long time I’m excited.

‘I hope I make it across the border. I hope we see each other again. I hope to see Lena again.

‘I hope.’

* * *

APRIL, 1967  
ZIHUATANEJO

With her shoes dangling from one hand and her bag in the other, Kara makes her way across a sandy beach. The sand is warm beneath her feet as it seeps between her toes, and a crisp breeze blows in from the deep blue ocean. She walks until she spots a figure lounging on a beach chair under an umbrella.

It’s a woman and Kara knows instantly that that woman is Lena.

The woman looks over to Kara and the smile that breaks out across her face is something Kara knows well. The pale complexion contrasted with the dark hair swept over her shoulder only serves to confirm Kara’s suspicions.

“Lena!” Kara yells, dropping her bag and shoes, and sprinting across the beach, kicking sand up as she goes.

Lena stands and starts running too with a smile as wide as the horizon across her face. The end of her dress dances in the light breeze as she runs and her hat flies off along the way.

When they finally meet, they throw themselves at each other. Their arms wrap around one another to hold each other close, but not because they’re scared of losing each other again, it’s because they’re finally free. Free to love. Free to live.

“You came.” Lena tightens her hold on Kara for a brief second before she pulls away just enough to look Kara in the face, gripping her arms tight.

“Of course, I did.”

Lena blindly reaches into her bra and pulls out a ring that matches the one Kara gave her all those years ago.

“This is for you,” Lena says. “It’s exactly like the one you gave me. It was the first thing I made when I got here.”

There’s a silent question that Lena asks – ‘do you want it?’ – and both Lena and Kara know what either answer will mean. But for Kara, the answer is easy, has always been easy.

Kara raises her hand in silence, though there’s a grin plastered across her face that reminds Lena so much of the day they first met. She looks so young in this moment, so young and free, and Lena wonders how it took her so long to realize that she’d fallen in love.

Lena slides the silver ring onto Kara’s left ring finger, it’s plain and simple, but still catches and reflects the glowing sun above them.

“I love you, Kara Danvers.”

“And I love you, Lena Luthor.”

They pull each other in, their lips finally meeting after so much time apart, and the kiss is just like it’s always been, and yet it’s so vastly different. They aren’t exchanging quick kisses in the far corners of the prison yard, and they aren’t sneaking off to the back stacks of the library to fool around. Their tongues move together so languidly and safely now, exploring and memorizing. It’s warm and tender and every other thing a kiss with your love is supposed to be.

It’s free now. They are free now.

* * *


End file.
